Game of Thrones: Rise of the Dragonborn
by the unknown spirit
Summary: As Westeros burns in the War of the Five Kings, A stranger suddenly appears on the continent. One with the soul of a dragon and the power to shape the nation itself. At the same time, another stranger shows up in Essos. Crossing paths with the last Targaryen on her road to Meereen.
1. Chapter 1: Tuttles

Cedric Tuttle knew from an early age to expect little in life. Born into a family of pig farmers, and raised on the limited knowledge granted to one of such a low class, he had grown into what many would call a decent man. He always treated strangers fairly, and despite his brother working for House Forrester, had always managed to keep his ego in check. Treating any man or woman who happened to come across his little hut with as much kindness and respect as one could expect from a simple northerner. As he grew older, he he was lucky enough to find a wife in Alice and father children with her. His first born, being Gared Tuttle, a boy who from an early age was groomed to squire for House Forrester. After him, the gods blessed him with a daughter, Jenna Tuttle. Some years later, the woman he had married was taken by sickness leaving him alone to raise his children.

Gared grew up quick enough and was now fighting for the Forresters and their lords the Starks for independence, whatever that meant. And Jenna, now a girl of twelve, was proving to be invaluable around the farm. She was smart and dedicated for her age as well as kind. With any luck the Forresters would also take an interest in her, and give her a better life than he could. Now entering the twilight years of his life, Cedric could do little but spend his days doing the same thing he had always done. Raise pigs, sell them, try and take care of his children. That was the mantra he had lived by all his life and it would most likely stay with him till his dying day.

One particular morning, as the moon began to set in the sky and the dim orange embers of the sun started to stretch over the horizon, Cedric got up from his hut to inspect his land. Now that summer was on it's waning embers, the days were slowly growing colder and all that did was make wolves and other animals more desperate for food. He walked to his barn to count his livestock when he heard a soft groan coming from the woods.

At first, he thought it a simple trick of the wind rustling across the bark of the trees. But then he heard it again, and a moment later, A raspy, ugly, coughing noise. Against his wiser instincts, he walked away from his barn and closer to the sounds of what seemed like a man as he got closer. A few more moments went by and before long he stood over a fallen naked woman.

Her eyes were closed, and she seemed incapable of standing or even lifting herself. Her right arm was black with bruises and her left was so mangled, Cedric wondered if she'd been clawed by a bear. A bear who then proceeded to absolutely rip into her chest as that was the only way to explain the large, darkened, scarred area below her heart. That bear would've had to also strip her of her clothes to explain why she was naked but he'd heard that wild folk enjoyed laying with animals. Perhaps this one did as well.

But putting that aside, the woman was still alive, and needed help. And knowing that most men in his position would have much darker intentions, Cedric sighed and knelt down towards the woman. "C'mon." He muttered, hoping the woman had enough strength in her legs to walk once she was on her feet. He threw the woman's bruised arm over his shoulder and heaved the her upwards. For her average frame, she was surprisingly heavy and Cedric's age began to get to him when the woman started to struggle, apparently panicking. "Calm down." Cedric ordered sternly but calmly. "Me hut's just a little ways off. I'll try and help you once we're there."

The woman's panic faded as her cough returned and she spat up another mouthful of blood. Cedric had to sigh as he urged the woman to start moving. Cough or not, she needed to if she wanted to live. The woman finally got the point and struggled to move forward. Cedric was surprised to see that her legs still seemed to work, even following closely beside him as he carried her out of the brush and into view of his home. Fighting through whatever pain she must've been feeling she opened one eye to look at her rescuer. Despite his focus on getting her indoors, Cedric had no choice but to notice just how green her eye was. Like a summer grass field after a heavy rain.

"Jenna!" Cedric's voice rang out over to the barn where a moment later a young girl with auburn hair ran up. Her curious eyes widened when she saw her father and woman. "Grab the furs from the cellar." He ordered. Jenna got over her surprise instantly and shot inside their cottage. Cedric followed behind her but instead of moving to the cellar, he guided the woman to his room. After pulling the blankets back, he had little choice but to plop her down unceremoniously. He quickly straightened her out the best he could, taking special care with her mangled arm, and pulled the blankets back over her body. Jenna appeared shortly after, carrying a few wolf and fox pelts on her arms. She gave another look of concern to her father but then moved past and tended to the the stranger. She wrapped her dirty hair and head in a wolf pelt and lifted the covers to cover her body with the rest. "Be gentle." Her father warned. "She's badly hurt."

"Was she out there all night?" Jenna asked as she lay furs down onto the woman's deathly cold body.

Cedric sighed. "If she was, I don't know how she's alive." Nights in the North were rarely comfortable and last night seemed particularly chilling if his memory served him. If this woman had been naked the entire night, it was amazing she had survived the cold.

"No clothes or anything?" Jenna asked. Cedric started to shake his head but paused. He really hadn't gotten a good look at the surrounding brush that the woman was in. He'd have to circle back to make sure he didn't miss anything. "I'll take another look, you try..."

The woman's eyes opened and she opened her mouth to speak when another coughing fit seized her. "Knap...Kna...psack." She managed to workout between coughs as Jenna quickly patted her head. "Easy. Easy." Jenna calmed the stranger in a way that sounded so much like her mother before her. "Rest now." She ordered as Cedric walked away from the pair and back out the door. He returned to the place where he had found her and quickly noticed that woman hadn't been talking nonsense. A rugged, leather knapsack sat a few feet away from where she had lie and he was quick to pick it up. He had just started back to his hut when he noticed a gleaming metal further away. He tilted his head at the sight when he realized it was a sword.

The design wasn't anything special yet the blade itself seemed to shine despite the dirt and blood that clung to it. Giving another look around as to make sure there were no other bodies present, he picked up the blade and finally marched back to his hut. He closed the door behind him and moved back towards Jenna. The woman's eyes were still open and she struggled to give a tired smile at the sight of her belongings. "Po...Potion." She whispered out, her voice was clearer but very dry.

Jenna looked at the woman and then to her father. "What's a potion?"

Cedric shook his head as he leaned the sword up against the bed and placed the knapsack between the three. "I haven't the faintest idea." He replied.

The woman's smile faded at the words of her caretakers and she elaborated. "Blue...Vial." She said with a weak tone of annoyance. Cedric opened up the knapsack and immediately combed through it. Several rolls of parchment were visible but after reaching down to the bottom, he did find a small blue vial that appeared to contain some blue liquid. He looked back at the woman who gave a swift nod to let him know that was it and quickly uncorked it. She drank the liquid quickly before letting out another flurry of coughs. After a moment of that however, she appeared to calm down and it wasn't long before unconsciousness took her.

With identical sighs of relief, Jenna and Cedric looked to each other for answers.

"What do you think that was?"

"I'm not sure." Cedric replied. "Some sort of soothing tonic?" He shrugged his shoulders as that area was far away from his own expertise. "I can't say. Did she say anything else while I was out?"

Jenna shook her head. "She was in a lot of pain." She looked back to the stranger's sword that stood at the foot of Cedric's bed. "Why's she got a sword but no clothes? Is she a Wildling?"

Cedric had been wondering the same thing himself, but shook his head again. "I don't think so. Wildlings are on the other side of the Wall and any who do make it past don't usually make it this far south. Though anything is possible." He gave another look over the woman and let out another sigh when he was reminded they still had work to do. "She'll likely be out of it for a while. Come. We still have a farm to keep."

Jenna gave a nod of compliance and she and Cedric went straight back to the barn. Hoping he had seen enough strangeness for one day, and that he hadn't just let a crazed savage into his home.

The hours passed as they normally did on a late summer's day and around mid-day, the stranger opened her eyes once again. This time she was alone and quickly looked over the room she found herself in. Spotting her sword at her feet, she attempted to lean up but that idea was swiftly crushed when she felt her wounds act up again. She looked down at her body and let out a heavy sigh before closing her eyes yet again and focusing on her bruised but movable arm. A golden aura started to appear in her hand and surround her body, strengthening it and clearing away a fair amount of the pain that lingered from her last encounter. Her arm previously mangled arm began to snap back into place and after a moment one couldn't even tell it had been broken.

The aura continued to swirl around her for body and soon enough her strength began to return. This time she successfully leaned up grabbed her sword by the hilt. She'd was surprised her cartakers would simply leave a Skyforge blade out in the open but perhaps they didn't know it's value. With her sword in hand and knapsack in sight, she decided the next thing she needed was clothes. She had just started to reach up and pull the fox pelt from her head when another pair of footsteps creaked over to her.

"You're up?" Cedric asked, surprised. She looked over to him with a quizzical blink. "I'm surprised, is all." He followed up. "I've heard tales of men getting injured like that and not waking up for days."

As the woman studied the man in front of her, Cedric noted that her eyes were still dulled with a lack of sleep but their was now an energy behind them he couldn't say he'd ever seen before. She took in a breath before she spoke. "You." Her voice was still weak but much clearer now and rang off the room's walls like a distant battle horn. "You're the one who found me" She asked.

Cedric nodded and decided it was time for introductions. "Cedric Tuttle miss."

The woman finally broke her glare and nodded in return. "Lyra."

Cedric smiled, happy to finally have a name for the woman. "Blessings to you Lyra." He greeted to the woman as Jenna came sauntering in a few moments later. She matched her father in being covered in muck and grime but her curious smile proved infectious to the bedridden Lyra. "Jenna, how are the hogs?" Cedric asked.

"Back in their pens." Jenna answered. "All fed and accounted for."

He raised an eyebrow. "You decide which one goes to slaughter tomorrow?"

Jenna's smile faded at the thought but she nevertheless gave an answer. "Therold. He's getting pretty big."

"Good girl." Cedric said ruffling her hair. "As for our new friend here, this is Lyra."

Jenna's hazel eyes burned with curiosity at the woman. "Are you a Wildling?"

Cedric scowled at his daughter. "Jenna."

"What?" She asked back. "I can't ask that?"

"It's bad manners." He reminded her but nevertheless looked to Lyra for an answer.

Lyra let out a tired chuckle and shook her head. "If I knew what that word meant, I might answer."

"She means if you come from beyond the Wall."

Lyra tilted her head. "What wall?"

"The Wall." Cedric repeated.

Lyra glared at the elder Tuttle and let out an annoyed sigh. "I ask again, which wall? Alduin's Wall? Solitude's walls? Windhelm's? You need to be more specific."

It was Cedric's turn to be confused words. "Solitude? Windhelm?" He asked back with a shake of his head. "Are those village names?"

Lyra raised her eyebrows in surprise at the man's lack of knowledge for the hold capitals and reached up to scratch her head with her previously mangled arm. The Tuttles's shock when she did proved to be highly entertaining. "Not used to people recovering that fast?" Lyra laughed as she pulled the pelt off her head, revealing a dirty but vibrant patch of brown hair.

"That...That shouldn't be possible." Cedric told her a she knelt down to look over her arm.

Lyra shrugged. "It's just a little magic." She replied.

Jenna blinked in confusion and she looked to her father. "But, I thought magic wasn't real."

Lyra initially wasn't sure if that was an attempt at a joke or not but the prolonged silence that followed gave her the answer. That statement started setting off alarms in her head as she began to wonder where exactly she was.

"Hey, Jenna." She looked over to the Tuttle girl and offered her the blade she held in her free hand. "You ever feel a Skyforge blade before?"

Jenna's eyes widened when she grabbed the hilt of the blade and felt how heavy it was. "No, I...I've never held a sword before." She spoke after barely lifting it off the ground.

Lyra smiled at the awe she seemed to be in. "Right, well if you could clean the blade off for me, I'll let you have few practice swings with it." She looked over to Cedric who had a horrified grimace plastered on his face. "Unless your father thinks otherwise." She finished.

Whatever fearful look Cedric had, melted away when Jenna's hopeful eyes peared into his. "Can I father?"

"Just be careful." He huffed out. Jenna couldn't contain her excitement and was halfway out the door before Cedric called out. "And don't swing it around the livestock." He ordered, hoping she'd heard him.

With her gone, Lyra looked back tot he elder Tuttle. "Cedric, where am I?"

"Well, you're in my home." He told with a half laugh. "But beyond that, you're on the outside of the Wolfswood. About half a day's ride to Ironrath."

Wolfswood? Ironrath? Nothing in Skyrim shared those names. She shook her head at the words. "Okay. So what province am I in? Cyrodil? Morrowind? Elswyr?"

Cedric almost wanted to laugh at the sound of the words that escaped Lyra's mouth. "What kinda names are those?" He chuckled. "You're in the North of Westeros."

Now that word was entirely new. "Westeros?" Lyra repeated back to the farmer. Cedric nodded. "What the fuck is Westeros?"

Another swath of time passed after that as Lyra was given a comfortable if tight dress that Alice Tuttle had once owned by Jenna and Cedric gave his rather limited knowledge on the land he called home. He described his local lords, House Forrester. The lords they served under, House Glover. And the lords of the North itself, House Stark. When Lyra still had a confused look on her face, he decided he knew the information he had given her was useless. "Well I apologize, I'm not a Maester." He huffed.

"That's a word too?" Lyra asked scratching her head yet again and continuing her slow exploration of the Tuttle farm. It was a small but agreeable patch of land that sat just to the side of the so called Kingsroad which itself seemed to stretch on for miles in both directions. Cedric kept along side her as she walked, completely astonished that she was capable of even being up much less walking around. Lyra paused just outside the pig pen and let out another sigh. "This makes no sense." She looked back to Cedric yet again. "So you mean to say you haven't heard of Tamriel? Akavir? Or Nirn?"

Cedric once again shook his head at the nonsense that came out her mouth. "Aye. But you must remember, I'm a simple pig farmer. I barely know anything about the North. It's possible some highborns know what those words mean."

Lyra nodded at his logic and quickly started forming plans. "Fair enough. So where are these Starks?"

"Fighting down south in a war." Cedric replied much to Lyra's annoyance.

Fine, so the big fish was out of the question. "Ok. And the Glovers?" Lyra asked.

Cedric shrugged not having any clue where that family stayed. Which only left one option. "What about House Forrester?" She asked.

"Ah." Cedric smiled. "They be at Ironrath. A keep deep in the Wolfswood." He pointed down the northern end of the Kingsroad. "The road splits off few miles down that way and the path into the woods will lead you to it."

"Excellent." She replied, marching back towards the Tuttle home with a renewed energy. Cedric followed quickly but felt he needed to warn her when she grabbed her knapsack.

"Wait, you're leaving now?"

"Yep." Lyra replied, swinging her knapsack across her shoulders and onto her back. "I need to figure out where in Oblivion I am and it looks like the Forresters are my best bet."

"But the Kingsroad is dangerous for a woman on her own."

Lyra chuckled led at the concern Cedric seemed to have for her and placed a firm but comforting hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, I'm used to it."

Cedric's concern lingered but quickly increased when he thought about the other girl he'd been looking after. "Jenna?" He called out, moving back outside. Lyra quickly followed, cursing her own carelessness and the pair looked out towards the road. Cedric spotted her swinging the now clean blade around clumsily at a tree by the barn and let out a sigh of relief.

Lyra meanwhile was focused on the three riders coming up from the Southern end. All of them wearing dark blue armor and sporting rather disturbing smiles as they saw her. Now whether it was years of expecting the worse from people or just gut instinct, she felt she needed to get Jenna out of sight. "Cedric." Lyra ordered. "Take Jenna inside."

Cedric looked back to Lyra and saw the same three men she did. He grabbed Jenna by the arm and led her back to their home though not before a few whistles could be heard from the men on horses. "Where you going, beautiful?" One of them called out.

"A little young to be called that, isn't she?" Lyra asked up to the trio who now stood right across from her on the road. "Or are you three just mad you can't get real women?" The question hadn't too threatening but nevertheless she was surprised when it elicited laughs from the men.

"I can get little cunts like her whatever I want." The lead man said, sliding off the side of his horse. "And you've got some nerve talking to Bolton men that way."

Lyra remained unimpressed. "Is that name supposed to mean something to me?"

"It means we're in charge now." The lead man replied, taking out his sword from his sheath. "You live here?"

"Just passing through." Lyra replied. "I'm on way to Ironrath."

"Are you now?" Another man asked, still on his horse asked. "They need extra hands in the brothel?"

The trio laughed at the statement as Lyra's patience began to fall at an alarming rate. She scratched her head and looked over the three of them before speaking again. "I'll tell you what. I'm confused and annoyed as it is. So how about you just keep on mincing down the road and..." She paused as the blade of the lead man's sword was pointed straight at her throat.

"You giving me orders?" He asked with grin. "Cause I don't listen to pig fucking bitches."

Whatever cordial way of finishing her statement she might've had in her mind was obliterated and Lyra gritted her teeth behind a smile. "Fine, then." She whispered. "**LIZ**"

The man who'd been facing her readied for a lunge when ice began to cover his body at a faster rate than he could think. In a few short seconds, he fell onto the ground. His entire body now encased in ice.

"Britt?!" The cries of his compatriots were of shock and fear as Lyra turned her blood hungry eyes to them. To their credit, they didn't run away and both got off their horses to engage her. She reached down and tore Britt's sword from his frozen palm.

They charged her together and right away Lyra knew these men had no idea what they were doing. They swung wildly and with no grace. Almost begging to get killed as far as she was concerned. And in this instance, she was more than happy to oblige. One particuarly wild swing sailed right past her head and slammed into the ground. A single swipe from her own opened his throat which was followed by a kick to the chest that forced him to the ground.

Without even looking at the now remaining soldier, she spun her body around and swiftly disarmed him. With the sword now point at his throat he looked at the woman with shock and panic in his eyes. "H...How..."

"That's the wrong word." Lyra told him. "You should have gone with 'please'."Before he could even utter the word, Lyra's blade cleaved through his neck. Sending his head rolling onto the Kingsroad.

Lyra had only begun to turn back to the cottage when another figure began to appear on the Kingsroad. This one was alone and didn't look to be dressed up in the armor the other men had. And he was a few years younger, closer to seventeen or eighteen is she had to guess. He stopped when stood in front of the fallen head of the Bolton soldier. "You do this?" He asked her.

"Do you see anyone else here?" She asked back the boy. "Who are you?"

"Gared Tuttle." He replied. "And that's my home."

* * *

**A/N: Well, I'm a little late to the party but I've got Game of Thrones on the brain and I decided to try my hand at a crossover. Here's hoping it turned out ok.**

**And yes I am starting out with the Forresters because they're cool. **

**Anyway, what did you guys think? Good? Bad? Leave a review and let me know. **

**Until we meet again, gods guide you**.


	2. Chapter 2: Pigs and Forresters

For a few moments, neither of them moved. Lyra sized up the boy who stood before her and Gared studied the woman who had seemingly killed three soldiers with little effort and wondered if he'd fare any better. He had the Forrester family blade strapped to his back but he had often heard his late lord Gregor lecture how a special sword didn't mean anything in the hands of one who couldn't fight. And while he was by no means untrained, he was far from what anyone would call adept. When she spoke again, he flinched. "Gared Tuttle right? Prove it. Who lives here?"

"My family."

"Names, boy." She ordered.

"Cedric and Jenna." He told her. The woman finally sighed and the hawkish glare that she'd been giving him vanished like a morning mist.

"All right then." She smiled. "Go see them. I'll move the bodies." She dropped the sword she'd taken off the man she'd frozen and started moving towards the bodies whilst Gared had little time to react before the door to his family's hut swung open.

Cedric was the first outside and opened his mouth to speak to Lyra when he saw his son. "Gared?" Cedric asked, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Gared didn't even bother replying as he strode towards him. Cedric wouldn't be the first person he embraced however, as the outline of his sister ran past him and straight into Gared's arms.

"Brother!" Jenna's grip was stronger than he anticipated but he didn't care in the slightest as he returned it. Cedric's own embrace soon followed and he spoke with a shaky voice.

"It's good to see you, son." He breathed out, giving him a a strong pat onto the back. "I thought you were down south with the Starks."

Whatever smile Gared might've had on his face faded at his words and once he had pulled back from his sister and father, he shook his head. Jenna looked confused but Cedric was able to grasp the situation reasonably quickly. He wiped away his shocked expression and quickly started leading him into the house. "Well let's get inside. We'll put some food in your belly and get you rested up." After almost a week of traveling nonstop, those words were almost divine to Gared who gladly followed save for one last look back at Lyra who was now carrying the body of one dead soldier over her shoulder and dragging what looked like the frozen body of another behind her.

For the first time since the war broke out, Gared felt he could really relax. He was home with his sister and his father. Laughing, eating, telling them stories of all the stuff he'd seen, it was a welcomed respite from everything that had happened recently. That is until he brought up what had happened at the Twins.

"The Starks are gone?" Cedric couldn't believe it even as his son nodded.

"Aye. Lords Gregor and Rodrik Forrester too." He pointed over to the Forrester great-sword that leaned against the table. "Lord Gregor ordered me to return that to Ironrath."

Cedric's shock mirrored Jenna's. "But how?" She asked. "I thought the Young Wolf was going to beat the Lannisters."

"So did I Jenna." Gared told her with a frown. "So did I." Jenna's head fell and a brief silence filled the room before a few distant grunts could be heard from outside. Grunts that were female in origin and signified the digging of a ditch.

With his mind now squarely on the woman from earlier, Gared looked at the pair of them. "Father, who is that woman?" He asked.

"Her name's Lyra." Jenna answered. "Father brought her in this morning naked."

Gared looked back to his father with raised eyebrows.

"It's not what you think." Cedric defended. "I literally found her naked, in the brush just a ways from the house."

"And she…..killed those soldiers?"

"I guess so." Cedric replied with crossed arms and a huff. "I got Jenna inside and all we heard was swords smashing and then nothing. Must've been pretty bad for an injured woman to beat them."

Gared wasn't sure he would agree with the conclusion. Especially the last bit. "Injured?" He asked his father. "She looked fine to me."

"You didn't see her naked." He reminded him. "I've seen mauled pigs with less scars than her. Arms twisted, a hole in her chest, frankly it's a miracle she's walking. Must've been whatever in that vial she had."

Jenna narrowed her eyes as she remembered. "Lyra did say it was magic."

* * *

As the day finally began to crawl to end and the sun slinked over the horizon, bathing the North in a haze of red and orange, Gared walked over to the woman who by all accounts might've save his family with a stoic expression. She hadn't attacked him or his family but he still wasn't sure that meant she was a friend. He found her shoveling dirt into a freshly dug grave filled with the bodies of the men she'd killed. "You need any help?" He asked her.

"I got it." Lyra told him as she dumped another load of dirt into the pit. "Unless you need a set of armor." She pointed to the headless dead body. "It didn't look like much but it's probably better than nothing."

Gared shook his head before asking,"You seem decent with a sword."

"A bit more than decent, I hope." She replied.

"Were you fighting down south too?" He asked, wondering if she might've been a deserter or survivor of the Red Wedding.

Lyra shook her head."The only fighting I've done in this country is against these men I'm burying."

Gared's eyes surveyed the bodies before focusing on one in particular. One that lie frozen under the the other two. "How did you…freeze him?" He asked.

Lyra shrugged. "I shouted."

"You screamed and he froze?" Gared asked.

Lyra laughed. "Something like that." She rubbed the back of her neck as she thought of a way to explain. "Listen, does Westeros have any dragons?"

"Not for over a century, I think." Gared replied, his own knowledge on the subject teeing limited to what he had learned from the Forrester family library before the war. "The Targaryens lost them all in the Dance of Dragons."

Lyra tilted her head. Targaryen was a new name and the Dance of Dragons had a nice ring to it. "Must've been an interesting party." She replied.

"A war, actually."

"Ah, that makes a little more sense." Lyra nodded as the shovel tore the ground again and raised some more dirt. "But anyway, I can actually speak the language of dragons. And as a result of that…" She allowed him to put the pieces together himself as she continued digging.

Gared remained confused. "But, dragons didn't have a language."

She looked back up to the boy. "You ever try talking to one?" She asked back.

"They're all dead." He reminded her.

"Oh." If Gared didn't know any better, she almost sounded disappointed. "Never mind then."

"Wait." The realization hit Gared harder than he expected. "Are you saying dragons are alive where you come from? Talking dragons?"

Lyra thought about giving him the centuries long answer of Akatosh and Alduin, the Nord rebellion, and finally Alduin's return and his resurrection of the species, but she decided that would probably leave him with many more questions than answers."It's complicated."

Her tone of voice told Gared he'd be better off not pressing the matter and focused back on the bodies piled in the ditch. "Those were Bolton men and the one you…..froze, was a Whitehill."

"Whitehill? That's a new one." Lyra said back as she continued shoveling dirt back into the ditch. "Who are they?"

"One of the families most loyal to the Boltons." Cedric replied. "They've been feuding with the Forresters for a long time."

This was all staring to sound very familiar to Lyra and soon enough her head was flooded with memories of two very quarrelsome families in Whiterun. "Why the feud?" She asked. "You both serve…." She realized she needed to correct herself. "…served the Starks. So shouldn't you both serve the Boltons now?"

Gared's eyes narrowed and his hands clamped into fists. "The Boltons betrayed the Starks. Because of them, lords Gregor and Rodrik, the Starks, they're dead."

Lyra could sense rage radiating off the boy but at the same time a great deal of sadness. A fusion of emotions that often came with losing friends in war. She sighed and looked back down to the half buried soldiers. "They die on their feet?" She asked.

Gared's fists started to unwind. "It was at a wedding. " Gared half whispered. "The entire army was in chaos. Rodrik died fighting and lord Gregor saved my life."

"Damn." She had no side in this conflict but to here him speak of it, it seemed like a great light had gone out with the deaths of these Forresters and Starks. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

She dumped one last load of dirt into the pit before straightening back up. She was taller than Gared by only half a head yet she appeared to tower over him. Gared's eyes were thankful but also curious. She figured she would have to get used to that gaze.

"Not to pry, but why did you help my family?" He asked.

She smiled at the question. "Your father didn't tell you how he found me and let me rest in his home?"

"He did." He answered, looking away from the woman. "Though, it was apparently after seeing you naked."

"Did he tell you how our bodies were so entwined the gods couldn't tell us apart?" She asked.

Gared's shock brought a river of laughter from her and he shuffled his feet wondering if he should even bother replying.

"Relax boy, It's a joke." She said, calming down. "It's really simple. I try to repay any kindness that is dealt my way." She looked back to the grave of men she'd killed one last time. "And I have the same philosophy on malice. " She thought back to the sword Gared had strapped to his back earlier. "Why do you ask? Is decency not common in the North?"

"It's not common anywhere." He admitted, shaking off any lingering ideas of his father and the woman in front of him. "And now with the Boltons in charge…" His voice trailed off.

Lyra bit her upper lip at the depressing answer. "Should we be worried about reprisals?" She asked.

Cedric looked at her surprised she would even ask that. "What?" She asked at the look. "It's common sense. Some of your men go missing, you want to find out where and why." The pair now stood outside the Tuttle home. "And for all we know, those three could be part of a larger group who will come looking when they realize they haven't returned."

"What are you thinking?" Gared asked her.

Gared's slow grasp of the situation annoyed her but she kept it to herself as she continued. "I think, we should get you and your family on the road to this Ironrath as soon as possible. That way I don't have to worry about you guys."

"You're not staying?" He asked.

She raised any eyebrow at the boy. "Gared, do I look like a farmer to you?"

"Considering your in my mother's clothes, yes you do."

Lyra looked down at the dirtied up dress Cedric had offered her and laughed. "Good point. But I actually need some answers on how I got here. So I say tomorrow we all head out to Ironrath together. You get your family safe inside a keep and I can get some answers. Sound good?" She asked, extending her hand out to Gared.

Gared looked at it for a moment before taking it. He didn't know who this woman was or where she came from, if she really knew magic, or anything. But something told him she could be trusted and that she was quite a different woman than most he'd met. "Sounds good." He repeated.

Getting Jenna onboard with the idea was simple enough. She'd never seen a castle before and Gared's stories about Ironrath had thrilled her ever since she was able to talk. Cedric however proved to be much more stubborn.

"This is my home." He huffed. "I'm not leaving it over some misunderstanding."

"That _misunderstanding_ would've likely killed you and made things even worse for Jenna." Lyra told him once Jenna was out of earshot, thanks to Gared. " You'll stay there until this whole mess is settled."

"And what about the pigs?" Cedric asked.

Lyra opened her mouth to reply but his question soon caused her to clutch the bridge of her nose. "The what?"

"The pigs." Cedric repeated. "They're how I make me livelihood and I can't very well bring them with me."

Lyra let out a sigh. "Why not?"

"They're not damned dogs." He told her. "They need to be hounded every step of the way or they'll run off into the Wolfswood."

"How many are we talking?"

Cedric uncrossed his arms and started counting his fingers. "Well there's Therold, Haelga, Daren, Maegor, Joffrey, Clovis, Aya, Potrick, Willis, Ruby, and Caroline. So about eleven I'd say?"

"About?" Lyra asked.

"Either Caroline or Haelga's got some piglets in her. I think." He said scratching his beard. "But I still don't see how we'd be able to keep em all on the road."

The answer was disgustingly simple but since she was certain no one in Westeros knew what Shouting meant, she didn't hold it against him. "Listen, just pack your things. I'll make sure the pigs follow us tomorrow."

Cedric raised a skeptical eyebrow. "How?"

"I'll be charming." She replied standing up. "You, pack everything you can carry. No guaranteeing your hut will still be standing when you return. And this is for you." She handed him the sword she'd taken from the one called Brit. "Best you keep one with you. Never know when you might need it."

She picked up her own sword that lay on a nearby table and started walking to the door when Cedric spoke again. "Miss Lyra." He stood up and bowed his head. "Really, how are you going to keep the swine in line?"

Lyra's smile looked almost mystical as she opened the door. "Magic."

The sun's dying glow still lingered in the sky but it wouldn't last more than thirty minutes so she needed to act quickly. She strode over to hot pig pen and glanced at the eleven pigs inside it. "Right, I have no idea how they tell you slabs of bacon apart but listen up. " The pigs all seemingly snorted at once and chose to ignore her. She chuckled and spoke again. " RAAN MIR TAH"

That got the pigs attention. Everyone of them stood still with ears perked up and glaring at the woman. "That's better." She said. "Tomorrow morning, we head out onto the road. And you're going to walk in a single line behind Cedric and me until we get to where we're going. Sound good?" She asked, when no oink of disagreement came she smiled. "That's what I like about you animals, I never have to repeat myself. Now get some sleep."

She turned her back from the pen and started for the hut when a sharp pain erupted from her chest. She gasped as her breath rushed from her throat and she nearly lost balance as she tried to compose herself with a hand to her heart and channeling a bit of magic into it. Only, no such magic appeared. The pain erupted again, reverberating through her body like pouring water in a bowl before starting to finally recede, gathering squarely in her chest before vanishing all together.

After catching her breath, Lyra began to put a few things in perspective. The first, she was much more injured that she thought, the wound in her chest must've been just as much magical as physical so that needed to be looked into. And the second, her own magic seemed incapable of returning to her. While the former was a headache she'd have to look into, the latter was far more troublesome. Magic was something she'd always rely on when she was in a bind and even when she was low on potions, magic came back to her overtime. Never requiring much more than a day to be fully restored. If her magic stopped regenerating on it's own, she'd need to take extra care in how she handled her remaining potions.

"Are you okay?" Jenna's voice called out from the window. Lyra waved at the girl to signal she was fine.

"I'm fine." She assured the girl before pulling her knapsack off her back and kneeling down. She felt through it and smiled. All her rolls of parchment were still there, thankfully so perhaps she wasn't too terribly off.

* * *

True to her word, the next morning, the Tuttles started on the Kingsroad to Ironrath. Gared in front, Jenna close behind, Cedric following her, and behind him, Therold, Haelga, Daren, Maegor, Joffrey, Clovis, Aya, Potrick, Willis, Ruby and Caroline all followed behind him in a perfect line as if they were four legged people. No slinking away or falling behind, they were keeping perfect pace with Cedric who couldn't even attempt to hid a confused smile. "In all my years...How'd you get them to do that?"

"Pigs are pretty smart when compared to other animals." Lyra replied patting him on the back. "Just got to know how to ask them."

Cedric seemed to accept that he wouldn't get a straight answer from the woman and remembered last night. "Jenna seemed worried about you. Did something happen?"

"Bah." Lyra shook her head. "I can heal fast but not completely. The last fight I had was..." She shook her head to wave off some bad memories. "Well it was an event. To say the least. "

"Do you get into fights often?" Cedric asked.

Lyra nodded. "More than I'd like."

"Is that wise?" He asked looking back at the pigs behind him once again.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He hesitated before continuing. "It's just, you don't see many women fighting. It's dangerous."

Lyra tilted her head. "Fighting's dangerous to everyone and happens far more often than any of us like to think. Would you prefer I never learned how and went out and told those men to put down their swords and try singing instead?" She asked back to the farmer.

Cedric was worried he had somehow offended her but there didn't seem to be any annoyance in her voice. More curiosity, than anything else. "No, I suppose not."

"Well there you go." She nodded. "If it were up to me, everyone would learn how to fight. Fists, swords, axes, bows and arrows. Anything and everything they could get their hands on. World might be a safer place then."

Cedric was silent for a moment and allowed her words to linger on his mind before deciding to change the subject. "You never said where you're from miss Lyra."

"No, I did not." She nodded.

"You mentioned words like Solitude and Windhelm but I don't know those places."

"They're cities in my home province." She smiled as she thought of her home. "Skyrim."

"Skyrim." Cedric repeated, liking the sound of it.

"We're here." Gared's voice called to them with an excited echo and Lyra refocused on the road ahead. The group pig farmers, pigs, squire and adventurer now stood within walking distance of a towering castle on the outset of another patch of woods.

"Ironrath." Jenna called out, her smile as big as Cedric had ever seen from the girl.

Lyra tilted her head at the sight. It certainly looked nice on the outside but her eyes drifted to the trees that towered behind it. They looked a bit different than the trees they had passed along the way here. A bit darker shade of bark that usual.

"What do you think of Ironrath, Therold?" She asked back to the pig.

The lead pig made some variation of a snort or a sneeze.

"Rather cynical answer." She replied. "There could be more to it than just looks."

The pig behind Therold snorted much louder.

"See Haelga, that's what I'm thinking." Lyra agreed crossing her arms. "All the wood around it makes it easy for fires to spread. If one ever breaks, out they'd better have water."

"Are you talking to the pigs?" Cedric asked.

Lyra looked at him like he was simple. "Yes."

Cedric smiled. "You're certain you're not a pig farmer?"

"Ha. Ha." Lyra replied.

The gate to the Ironrath opened rather quickly when they saw Gared at the head of the group and as they answered, One particular man came dashing over to meet him. He was quick to embrace the squire but soon enveloped Jenna as well. After that, his eyes fell to Cedric. "Brother?"

Cedric smiled. "Surprised to see me?"

"A little." Duncan admitted. "I thought you said you'd only leave the farm when you died."

"Well, you know me. I'm easily persuaded by women." He said, extending his hand out to Duncan.

Duncan took it with enthusiasm. "It's good to see you Ced."

Cedric smiled. "Same to you."

With Cedric out of the way, Duncan now turned to "And who is this, fair maiden?"

The woman before him let out a healthy laugh. "I'm about as far from fair or a maiden as you can be, but the name's Lyra all the same."

He looked to his pig farmer brother and then back to the woman. "Lyra. Are you and Cedric..."

Lyra snickered and scratched her head. "I'm not that good looking, I'm afraid. I'm actually here to figure out..." She knocked her head back and forth. "Well, where the fuck I am would be wonderful start. You got a library or anything?"

Duncan looked surprised by the answer but nevertheless gave a nod. "The Maester keeps a collection of books in his room. You're welcome to them if he agrees."

"Excellent." She paused and looked back to the heard of swine behind her. "You wouldn't happen to have a place for these guys would you?"

"We can refit the stables." Duncan said pointing towards an empty area of the keep. Lyra gave a whistle and pointed to the soon to be pig pen and one by one the pigs moved toward it. Surprising Duncan who finished his words rather slowly. "We...don't have than many horses in anyway."

"I'll handle the refitting." Cedric said moving away from Lyra and towards his brother. "Jenna, you with me. We still have work to do."

"Yes, father." Jenna sighed as she followed Cedric and the swine before waving back to Lyra.

Lyra smiled at the girl. She was just as hard working as her father but the youthful curiosity was still present in her and Lyra hoped that Ironrath would help sate that appetite.

"Gared, you follow me. Lord Ethan and Lady Forrester will want to speak with you. Lyra, you follow as well. The Maester will be inside."

"Yes sir." Gared said with a nod. Lyra kept her reply to a nod and beckoned him to lead on.

* * *

When Maester Ortengryn opened his door, the last thing he expected to see was an early thrities woman staring back at him. He looked her over as if she was an unwanted dog and promptly sighed. "What do you want?"

Lyra bit back a sarcastic reply and smiled. "Nice to meet you too. Name's Lyra." She looked back down the empty hallway she had come from. "I'm sorry. Were you expecting someone else?"

"I wasn't expecting anybody." Ortengryn replied. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I'd like to take a look at your books." Lyra said pushing him aside with more force than he initially expected from the woman and immediately spotting the several shelves of books by his room window. "Got any history books on Westeros?"

"Student of history, eh?" Ortengryn sighed as the woman marched over to the tomes. "I'm surprised you have an interest in it."

Lyra looked back to him. "Why's that?"

"I wasn't aware commoner life allowed for the time." Ortengryn replied.

Lyra shrugged. "Commoner life, sure. Adventurer's life though." She smiled at the Maester. "That allows for all sorts of time and interests."

Ortengryn didn't understand the grin. "What exactly is the difference?"

"One's more interesting than the other." She said, looking over the shelves. Her hand drifted to one in particular. "What about this one?"

Maester Ortengryn focused on the book's title. "History of the Andal Invasion? If you're a fan of the Seven, it's a good read. If a bit dry."

"Who are the Seven?"

Maester blinked a few times in surprise. "The Seven gods of Westeros?" She shook her head, still not understanding. "The Father, The Mother, The Warrior? None of those ring a bell?"

She took her hand off the book. "I have different gods where I come from. Ones with actual names, for instance. Not exactly what I need right now."

Ortengryn thought on her reply and how that seemed to make her different than most commoners. "So you're not a follower of the Old Gods then?"

She looked at him again with a blank stare. "And those are?"

"The gods of the forest that most commoners in the North still worship." Ortengryn shook his head at the woman. "Exactly who are you miss?"

"As of right now, as stranger in a strange land." She replied, figuring it was past time to explain herself. "I came with Gared Tuttle and his family."

Ortengryn nodded as he understood. "Ah, so you're a friend of the Castellan. I see."

Lyra assumed he was talking about Duncan and she nodded. "I'm trying to get my bearings and find out how this country works. Best way to do that is through it's history."

"You'll be starting on a long road then." Ortengryn admitted. "The history of Westeros goes back thousands of years."

Lyra shook her head. That was far too much ground to cover. "How about a relatively modern tome. Say, the last thirty years?"

Ortengryn shook his head. "I don't have anything like that at the moment but perhaps I can answer your questions. I am a Maester after all."

"I'd appreciate it." Lyra bowed her head. "Thanks." Ortengryn nodded and beckoned her to ask. "Okay, first of all, what's the War of Five Kings about?"

The two of them for a good while. Ortengryn going through a brief history of the late King Robert's Rebellion, the peaceful reign that followed save for the Greyjoy Rebellion, The appointment of lord Eddard Stark as hand and his capture then execution at the hands of King Joffrey. He then tore into the conflict itself. Telling how the Young Wolf Robb Stark declared war on the south to gain the North's independence, Explaining how Robert's two brothers both declared themselves kings and how the older of the two, Stannis won out and attacked King's Landing only to fail when Tywin Lannister showed up. And finally ending with the latest even to occur as far as he knew. The Red Wedding.

"Gods." Lyra breathed out as he finished. Hearing Gared talk about it, she knew that the event had been bloody but to hear it from the maester and what exactly happened to the Young Wolf and his family. It was beyond blood curdling. "That sounds horrible."

Ortengryn nodded as he frowned. " A shame, really. The Starks were good rulers. Fair and just."

"And the Boltons are in charge now." She finished with grit teeth. She had never been a fan of traitors, and to hear what this Roose Bolton and Walter Frey had done not just to Robb and his mother but thousands of Stark soldiers as well, it got her Nord blood boiling.

"Yes." Ortengryn tilted his head. "Did Gared mention that on your way to Ironrath?"

"A trio of cunts at his father's farm." She explained. "Apparently they were Bolton and Whitehill men."

Ortengryn's brow furrowed and his eyes took on a fearful expression. "And what exactly happened to them?"

She opened her mouth to explain when the door to Ortengryn's room burst open and an irate Duncan appeared at the door. "You murdered Bolton and Whitehill soldiers?!"

Lyra shifted her gaze from Ortengryn over to the angry Castellan. "No, I gave them all sweet rolls." She crossed her arms. "Of course, I killed them."

* * *

Lyra wasn't too happy at putting her conversation with the Maester to the side but she felt a bit of pity for Duncan who looked like he was about to have a vein or two burst in his head when he asked her to come and explain herself. And because of her admittedly soft heart, she now stood in front of Gared, Duncan ,Ortengryn and a few new faces inside the great hall.

A young boy named Ethan who couldn't be older than thirteen. A grizled armored man named Ser Royland whose frown looked to be stitched onto his face. And the only other woman in the room who stood stoiclly next to her son eyeing Lyra with a mix of caution and curioisty, Elissa Forrester.

"Lyra, is it?" Elissa asked.

Lyra nodded. "Lady Forrester, I presume. My sympathies for your husband and son." She gave a small bow to the woman before looking at the rest of them. "What's the problem?"

Duncan looked at her with a renewed fury. "The problem is you murdered Bolton men."

Lyra's temper flared at the Castellan."Exactly what are you pissed about?!" She yelled, startling everyone with how loud her voice rang. "If I hadn't been there, Gared's family, YOUR family might not be here now."

Duncan's shock quickly turned to shame at her words and he looked over to Gared who looked to be just as angry as she was. "I...I'm not ungrateful for what you did."

Lyra crossed her arms, glad to see a change in attitude."Then start acting like it. Gods, you'd think I brought a plague down on all of you."

"You may have." Elissa again. She looked to be just a few years older than Lyra but her voice seemed a decade older. "The Whitehills have been wanting an excuse to go after us for years. With my husband gone, they'll use any opportunity available to them."

There was an obvious strain in her voice when she mentioned her husband and Lyra took it as a sign she was still mourning. "Exactly how is this an opportunity for them?" Lyra asked. "Three of their men go missing and they'll just blame you for it? Seems far fetched."

This time, the youngest spoke up. "They'll find out that it was done on Forrester land and assume it was one my men who did it."

Lyra turned her attention to Ethan. Just from a glance of the boy and seeing his crooked posture, she had a feeling that being lord was a very recent thing for him. A task he was ill prepared for but took on nonetheless out of a sense of duty or honor. She could respect that. "Very well." She conceded. "Let's say they dig up the bodies and come marching over here demanding retribution. Why should you care?"

"We shouldn't." Ser Royland spoke up in agreement with Lyra. "I say we focus on the fact that their soldiers were on Forrester land to begin with. That alone is an insult to this house and proof that they have no respect for us." There was combative edge to the man's voice that Lyra liked hearing but also a firm conviction to it that made it seem genuine. He was loyal and a fighter.

"They won't care about that." Duncan told Royland as the two men shared a glare. "All they'll care is that their men are dead and we're not in a position to simply ignore that.

"What's wrong with your position?"Lyra asked. "Your in castle, close the gates."

"You must remember Lyra, most of our men were fighting with the Starks." Ortengryn explained to the woman. "We'll be severely undermanned for sometime."

"Exactly." Duncan agreed. "And the Whitehills will have an army on their side as well as the Boltons's favor if things escalate."

"How big of an army?" Lyra asked.

Ortengryn put on a thinking face before replying. "If they mustered a full force, a hundred men."

Lyra shouldn't have laughed. The tone of the conversation had been deadly serious and something even as small as a chuckle might've been viewed as insulting but she couldn't help it. After a moment or two she finally calmed back down, wiping a tear from her eye. "That's what got you all so worried? A hundred men?"

"Exactly what about that number is amusing?" Duncan asked.

"The way you were building it up, I was expecting at least five hundred." Lyra explained. "This is actually much more agreeable."

"Agreeable?" Ethan asked.

She looked up to the boy and gave him a wink. "I'll make you a deal. If these Whitehills show up and don't want to play nice, I'll take care of them for you."

Another laugh soon echoed from the room, this time from lady Forrester. "You certainly don't lack for courage. Do you?" She asked to Lyra. Various smirks soon appeared on everyone else in the room and Lyra understood that they didn't believe her.

"Look at it this way then." Lyra suggested. "There's no sense in dragging you guys into a mess I made so when they come, simply bring me out to meet them. Either I'm right and I'll take care of them. Or they'll simply kill me. No big loss to any of you."

"They won't just kill you." Gerad reminded her.

Lyra clicked her tongue at his words and realized he was right. "Probably not. Still though, no loss to you." She focused back on Duncan. " I don't blame people for wanting to look after themselves."

Silence swept through the hall and when nobody spoke up, Lyra continued. "If that will be all, I'd like to take my leave. I haven't had a bath since I got here."

"Here, referring to what?" Ethan asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Ironrath?"

Lyra thought of all the ways she could reply. Since the farm? Since coming to Westeros? Since leaving Skyrim? She decided on that was equally true for the situation. "Since getting myself involved in another mess." She replied, giving a small bow before turning away from them and moving back towards the entrance way before disappearing from sight.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's chapter two down. A bit longer than last but whose counting? I'm hoping it all flows together well though. Sometimes when I read this aloud, I couldn't be sure if it was working. **

**Anyway, what did you guys think? Good? Bad? Leave a review and let me know. **

**Until we meet again, gods guide you. **


	3. Chapter 3: Making a Spectacle

After a quick bath that finally washed all the remaining muck and grime from her body, Lyra sight at the wound in her chest through the mirror. Though cleaned and days old with seemingly no signs of infection, it still felt fresh and a lingering pain would occasionally flood her entire chest and make it difficult to breathe.

"You just had to get involved didn't you?" She spat at her reflection. "Couldn't just leave well enough alone. Had to try and be a hero. Now look at you, lost on some backwoods continent where your magic doesn't come back, dragons are dead, and a whole horde of fucking families are vying for power. What are you supposed to do now, huh? How are you supposed to get back home?"

When no reply came from the mirror, she wiped her forehead and quickly moved to put on some clothes. The dress Cedric had given her was nice enough but she needed something she could move around better in so she had asked for a pair of brown slacks and a simple green top shirt and was gifted one as a sign of thanks from the Castellan. Just as she had those on, a knock came on the door of her temporary quarters. "Come in." She replied as she scratched her hair.

The door opened and a new figure walked in. He was around the same age as Duncan and carried himself with the same upright stance as he did. But there was a hard edge to his brown eyes that separated them as well as the lack of a beard. "And who might you be," Lyra asked the man.

The man gave a slight nod of the head. "I heard about a woman helping Gared and his family get back here in one piece and I wanted to say thank you. I'm Malcolm. Lord Ethan's uncle."

"It was no trouble. Cedric and Jenna are good people and Gared seems to have a good head on his shoulders. I'm glad to have helped." She laughed when she thought back to the other Tuttle she had met earlier that day. "And you didn't even have to yell at me for killing those assholes."

Malcolm frowned at her words. "You misunderstand. Duncan is overjoyed to have his family here and is grateful for your assistance. But he knows that this house is vulnerable. And if the Whitehills come asking questions..." He paused and shook his head at the situation. "I apologize. I shouldn't burden you with these matters."

Lyra tilted her head. "I don't see why you're worried. I told Ethan and everyone else, I'd help you guys out before heading out."

Malcolm's smile made it clear she wasn't believed. "Yes. I'm aware of your suggestion. It gave us all a good laugh, but we must focus on actual plans."

Lyra's chuckle was surprisingly cold to Malcolm's ears. "You know, that sounds a bit condescending. But I can't blame you. You never saw me in action back home."

Malcolm nodded and looked over to a book that sat on a table near the two." Interesting reading?" He asked.

"Just something, Ortengryn gave me." Lyra replied. "Westeros is still new to me so I'm doing a bit of studying."

Malcolm took that as a sign to steer the conversation. " I see. Speaking of your home though, the real reason I came to speak with you. I'd like to know if there's any chance you ran into a man named Asher in your travels through the Essos."

"Essos?" Lyra asked. "Where's that?"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "That's not where you come from?"

"No, I'm from..." She bit back her tongue at the thought of explaining herself and the fact that she was from a completely different continent before deciding it was far too much trouble to go into. "Look, let's just say I'm from a far off country. Really far off. I'm sorry but I know less about Essos than Westeros."

Malcolm looked surprised at the revelation but quickly composed himself. "I apologize for wasting your time then."

Lyra couldn't help but feel that he gave up too quickly. "Perhaps you haven't. Why are you looking for this Asher?"

"A task from Lady Forrester." He replied as he turned away from her. "Beyond that, I am not permitted to say."

Lyra's scoff could be heard as he left the room. "Good to know where I stand regarding trust. Bring a squire and his family safely here, still can't be trusted."

"With respect Lyra, we don't know you." Malcolm retorted. "You show up in the North without a clue of where you are and talk about solving our problems as if they were trivial to you. How can we trust you?"

He left shortly after that, closing the door behind him as Lyra rubbed the back of her neck. So sarcasm was entirely lost on these people. That was good to know, but very annoying as well. Either these Forresters were true sticks in the mud or they were incredibly frightened at their situation with the Whitehills. Whatever the case, she figured she could change a few minds if and when these Whitehills showed up. She looked out her window towards the setting sun and her stomach let out a growl. It was past time she had some food.

Finding food had been easy enough after a quick visit to the storerooms she came out with a plate of ham and a few bottles of something called Arbor red. Sounded a bit too fruity to her mind but she'd wait until she'd tasted it before judging.

As a token of gratitude for helping Gared and his family, she was allowed to eat in the Greathall. When she returned, Duncan, Ser Royland, and Lady Forrester were gone, leaving only Ethan on his throne frowning and staring blankly into the wood floor, lost in thought. Not wanting to ruin his state of mind, Lyra quietly strode over to a dormant hearth and sat her food down upon the table. She uncorked a bottle of Arbor and quickly poured some down her throat only for it to seize up as she coughed. "Talos." She coughed. That had been too fruity.

Ethan nearly stumbled off his throne when he heard her voice."Miss Lyra! I...When did you come in here?"

"A few seconds ago." She replied, regaining her composure. I like to eat my food with as few people as possible. Helps me think." She tore a chunk of ham off the bone and scarfed it down to help clear her throat of the taste. "You hungry?" She asked.

Ethan shook his head. "I have already eaten."

"Thirsty?" She asked, shaking the bottle.

"I..." He paused and looked away from her. "I don't usually drink."

Hadn't been allowed too was what he meant. Lyra almost felt the need to slap herself when she remembered how young he was but she settled for a nod. Ethan was still probably getting used to there being a Lord in front of his name. He'd get to drowning his sorrows in wine soon enough. "Suit yourself." Lyra nodded pouring some more Arbor red down her throat. She shook her head after she let out a breath. "It's too fruity anyway."

"So why are you drinking it?'

"Beggers can't be choosers," Lyra replied. "And after what I've been through lately, I need _something_ to drink." She gulped down some Arbor red.

"Did something happen?"Ethan asked, curious as to what tales this mysterious woman might have.

Lyra looked into the dead hearth and wondered if she should start a fire. "Something always happens to me. I can be in my house, minding my damn business and something will just crawl in out of nowhere and drag me back out on another adventure."

Ethan raised an eyebrow at the woman. "You're an adventurer?'

"Yep." She put down the bottle and resumed eating. "Have been pretty much since the day I could walk."

A boyish grin appeared on Ethan's face. "What kinds of adventures?"

"You name it, I've probably done it," Lyra smirked back.

"Fought bandits?"

"Yep."

Ethan leaned forward on his throne. "Fought in war?"

She nodded again. "That too."

"Rescued a princess?"

Her smirk shifted into a full nostalgic smile. "A few, here and there."

Ethan kept his grin as he too looked to the empty hearth. "When I was younger, I always wondered what adventures Talia and I might go on. Travel to Oldtown on the Kingsroad, Maybe go to Essos and see the Free Cities."

She opened her mouth to ask what was stopping him but quickly closed it as he continued. "But with father and Roderick gone, " His smile started to falter. "I guess I can put those thoughts away."

Lyra blinked, uncomfortable at the defeat in his voice. "Hey, don't know if I said this earlier, but I'm sorry about what's happened to your family. From what Gared talked about them, they seemed like good people."

He didn't respond to her thanks and Lyra realized that anyone who had talked to him since he became Lord probably had repeated those same words. "It must've been hard hearing about it." Lyra continued. "Father and brother gone, knowing you have to take the throne. A job you weren't ready for..."

He looked at her like a cornered animal with nowhere else to go. "I-I am more than capable of carrying on for them!"

She shook her head at his tone. If he was trying to hide the panic in his voice, he failed. "I never said you weren't," Lyra told him. He calmed back down almost immediately as she continued. "Look, I get it. Right now, it feels like the world's on your shoulders. You're now supposed to be responsible for people you don't even know and have to deal with things you never wanted to deal with. Everyone's probably looking at you like you have all the answers and ignoring the fact that not too long ago, you were just a kid." She paused to let her words digest in his mind.

Ethan opened his mouth to yell out a retort but her words were already working their way through his head so no sound came out and Lyra was glad to see that this young Forrester actually listened to when people spoke to him.

"Are you from a noble house?" He finally asked.

"If only." Lyra laughed at all the stories she could tell him about her home and the role she had in protecting it but she decided that it probably just take the focus away from the current topic. "But that's a long tale for another time. Just know I understand what's going through your mind right now and trust me when I tell you not to let the weight of the world crush your shoulders. It doesn't help anyone."

"What am I supposed to do when that happens?" He asked.

"Have something you can do or someone you can talk with to take your mind off it. " Lyra told him. "Learn to enjoy the little things. Like a good mug of ale." She took another swig of her bottle and once again let out a disgusted breath and shook her head. "Which that is not."

"Of course it isn't. Arbor red is a fine wine."

She looked at Ethan like she didn't understand the last word in his sentence until her eyes widened. "Fine?" She spat as she shook her head. "Ethan, I'll tell you what's fine. A mug of Black-Briar Mead."

"Mead?" The name Black-Briar went completely over his head. "Why would you want that terrible stuff?"

Lyra's look of horror made Ethan laugh. "For the sake of our friendship, I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Friendship?" Ethan asked.

"Sure," Lyra replied with a nod. "I figure with everyone else calling you milord and so on, you could use someone just to call you a friend." She extended a hand to the young lord. "Sound good to you?"

Ethan stared at her hand for a moment before taking it. "It sounds good to me."

Lyra smiled. "Excellent. So what do you do for fun around here?"

"Ethan?" A new voice reached both of their ears and Lyra and Ethan turned to see the smallest Forrester standing at the door alongside a girl who looked to be Ethan's age. "You said we could play hide and seek." The boy continued, trying his best to avoid the gaze of the new mystery woman who had been talking to his brother.

"We wanted to see if you had the time." The girl continued for him. She wasn't as timid as her brother and looked over Lyra with a quizzical glare. "Are you the woman who brought Gared's family here?"

Lyra nodded. "Yep. Name's Lyra. And you are?"

"Talia." The girl replied with a bow of the head. She tapped her brother's shoulder. "And this is Ryon."

* * *

_Lord Gregor and Rodrik of House Forrester have fallen."_

The message still sat on her table in her room. More than a week after reading it for the first time. She didn't believe it. How could she? Her husband had promised her he'd be back and then that would be it. He'd get to work on marrying Rodrik to the Elaena Glenmore and perhaps even abdicate his lordship early and finally spend the time he wished he had with her, his wife.

"I promise." He had told her. "When this war's done with, I'll never leave your side again."

Even now with Ethan leading the family, it sometimes didn't feel real. It felt like at any moment, Gregor could come marching back into Ironrath with Rodrik in tow. Not unlike Gared and his family did.

Her thoughts drifted from her husband to the person who had accompanied Gared here. This Lyra, woman. She was a complete unknown. She had helped Gared and his family to Ironrath so she must not mean her family harm yet she also talked like she could fight off a hundred men by herself, which made it clear she wasn't right in the head. Or at the very least, far too overconfident.

"Elyssa?"

She turned to her her door and smiled at her brother. "Malcolm?"

"I talked to her but..." He scratched his beard and sighed. "She can't help us with Asher. She doesn't even know what Essos is."

"I see." The disappointment was evident in her voice but she quickly snuffed it out. "You'll have to go on your own then Malcolm. We need Asher back home."

"I'm still not certain this is wise," Malcolm told her. "I should stay here with Ethan."

Elissa's stern gaze practically spoke for her. "I know Malcolm. But we need all the allies we can get and Ashur needs to come home if we are to be at our strongest."

Malcolm sighed but accepted his sister's words. "I understand. I'll begin preparations."

"Good." She gave him a hug which he returned in kind.

"We'll get through this Elyssa," Malcolm told her. "Ethan's got a good mind and heart. He'll see us through."

She did her best to smile at his words but her husband had also been smart and kind. As had Rodrik, and now they were gone.

After Malcolm left to prepare for the journey to Essos, Elyssa found herself wandering through Ironrath's surrounding forest, trying desperately to think of a way out of this situation her family was now stuck in. Whitehills and Boltons breathing down their neck, winter on the way, care for the people in her keep, food supplies, Asher somewhere in Essos, Mira in Kings-Landing, there were so many things she had to keep her mind on now. She sighed as she stepped past one particularly large tree and a wild and strong gust of wind plowed right past her.

"How did you do that?!" Ethan called out from the woods.

"Was that magic?" Talia's voice soon followed.

"Do it again!"

Elyssa's instincts kicked in at the last sentence. It was her youngest's voice, Ryon. She marched off towards the voices and found him, Ethan, and Talia looking right at her.

"Mother?" Ethan greeted her, surprised. "Is everything all right?"

"I should be the ones asking you that." She smiled, taking her youngest son's hand. " What were you three talking about?"

"Watching the weird woman." Ryon piped in.

Elyssa tilted her head. "What weird woman?"

"It's Lyra, kid." A new voice replied. Elyssa looked behind her only to see a towering Ironwood tree stretch up into the sky. It's trunk free of branches for several feet until you looked high enough. And there, sitting on one of those branches almost twenty feet high in the air was the mystery woman she'd just been thinking of. Smiling down at her and children with the grin of youngster herself. "And I'm not that weird." She leaped off the branch and plummeted back towards them. Flipping through the air one time and rolling through the impact as her feet hit the ground, much to Elyssa's shock and the children's amusement.

Applause came from Ethan and Talia and Ryon pulled on his mother's arm. "I wanna go up!"

Elyssa looked at her youngest to reply why he couldn't when Lyra spoke for her. "Easy there, kid. It's a bit out of your skill set at the moment." She smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair. "I'll tell you what though, I'm pretty good at building things so how's about I build you a tree house sometime. She looked back to Ethan and Talia whose eyes also lit up at the words. "Big enough for the three of you of course." She looked at Elyssa next and gave a slight not. "That is if your mother says it's okay."

Ryon beamed at his mother hoping for an answer then and there but Elyssa would have none of it at the moment. "Talia, take Ryon back to Ironrath, please. Ethan, you should go as well. There will be certain things you must go over with Ser Royland and Duncan before the Whitehills arrive."

Ryon's disappointment was noticeable but Talia promised him some sweets when they got back. Ethan followed the pair of them though not before giving a short nod to Lyra. Thanking her for taking his mind off things, even for a moment.

Lyra waved towards the departing trio before turning her attention to Lady Forrester. "You raised some good kids, my lady."

Elyssa pushed past the compliment. "What were you doing out here?"

Lyra's brow furrowed at her suspicious tone. "Nothing you need to get paranoid about. Just trying to take Ethan's mind of your family's problems for a bit."

Lady Forrester's suspicions proved stubborn. "And why would you want to do that?"

Lyra sighed. "Because putting an entire family's fate in the hands of a kid is a surefire way to screw up his life. Even if he is a bright kid." Her reply seemed to do the trick and Elyssa's hard eyes softened at he words.

"It is not something any of us expected," Elyssa admitted clutching her hands together in frustration. "And I wish there was more time for him to adjust to the role.

The feeling of loss in Elyssa's voice told Lyra that she was going to be very protective of her surviving family and as such view her with a good deal of suspicion and fear. She decided to correct that here and now. "Look, I'm not sure how this place works yet, but if you're worried about me getting in your son's ear or some other political nonsense you can put it to rest." Lyra leaned against a tree. "I don't intend to stick around here that long."

"You don't?"

"I'm a traveler at heart." Lyra smiled. She thought about the places she had read in the book Ortengryn had given her. The various kingdoms that made up this continent and the sights that they might hold. "And besides finding my way back home, I'd like to see what the rest of this country looks like."

"I would advise against it," Elyssa warned. "The kingsroad is far from a safe place these days."

"No road is a safe place," Lyra told her. "But if you keep your wits about you, you'll see it is an exciting one."

Elyssa looked at the woman with raised eyebrows and wondered if she somehow came out of an old fairy tale before repeating her question from earlier. "What were you doing out here?"

"Climbing trees," Lyra replied. "Ryon suggested hide and seek but since I figured they'd never find me, we decided climbing was better."

"Yes," She looked up the tree Lyra had just been sitting on and noticed a lack of branches leading up to the one she'd been sitting on. "But how did you get up there?"

Lyra sighed and thought about replying before stiffening and facing the tree again. "Okay, look. It's very simple. I get a running start and..." She took off running for the tree again. She kept her speed as she leaped onto the bark the trunk and whispered. "WULD!" Another blast of wind rattled the woods and catapulted Lyra right past the very same branch she'd just jumped down from and then some. Lyra laughed as her momentum kept her soaring past every branch on the tree and wondered how it might've looked down below. Once gravity finally caught up with her, Lyra pushed herself away from the bark and fell back to the earth. Landing right beside Elyssa again. "Like that."

Lyra wanted to laugh at the face Elyssa was making. Her mouth hung open and her eyes went the size of dinner plates. She'd looked like she'd just seen a fairy tale come to life right in front of her. "Y-You..." She looked back up the tree and then back to Lyra. "H-How?"

Lyra put on her best mystical tone of voice and gave a wave of her fingers. "Magic."

Elyssa's face made no change even after Lyra started laughing at her own antics.

As the pair walked out of the woods and Lady Forrester finally managed to accept what she saw, there was no shortage of questions. Asking if were a trick of some kind, wondering if what she saw was real, to even asking Lyra if she was some sort of half animal. All made Lyra laugh but she shook her head to all of them. "It's just a gift." She replied.

"How did you learn to do that?" Elyssa asked.

"Practice," Lyra answered.

"Yes, but do you simply say that word, Wuld, and..." Elyssa paused as she tried to find the right word. "...fly off?"

"Well, it's not _that_ simple." Lyra shrugged. "But it does come easier to me than most. It's part of my blood."

"Your family has that power as well?" Elyssa asked.

"Well, my parents didn't." Lyra shook her head. "And I haven't had kids yet so for now, it's just me." She looked at Elissa and smiled. "You've got some good children, by the way," Lyra added. "Ethan's got a good head on his shoulders. And that Talia is right there with him.

Lyra could feel pride radiate from Elyssa as she said this. "Thank you," Elyssa replied. "Gregor and I raised them well."

"So Westeros really has no magic, huh?" Lyra shook her head. "That's just sad."

Elyssa thought back to her younger days and tearing through books to learn everything she could about the world. "The old stories say we had it millennia ago but over time it sort of withered away."

"Huh." Lyra tilted her head as she remembered Gared's mention of dragons back on his father's farm. "You know if it had anything to do with the death of the dragons?"

"That's well beyond my knowledge." Lady Forrester admitted, before a heavy pause. Lyra looked concerned for her but waited until she spoke again. Elyssa's face was as stoic as a rock when she asked. "Can you truly help us?"

"I said I would, didn't I?" Lyra asked back. "I'll sort out this whole mess with the Whitehills and be on my way."

Lady Forrester's frown practically spoke for her. "I'm afraid our troubles don't end there."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "If it's the Boltons you're worried about, I wouldn't be." She put together what she had learned from Gared and Ortengryn before continuing. "I'd say they won't care about you guys right now."

"How can you be sure?"

"I've...dabbled, in politics," Lyra admitted. "And I can tell you if they only recently became lords of this land, they're probably going to have their hands full getting other, bigger houses in line. If they were smart, they'd focus on securing their grip on the whole North and not a little house like yours.

Elyssa's respect for the woman grew with every word. Her statement was perfectly logical for a newcomer to the North. "Perhaps you're right, but even then, we have other problems."

"Such as?"

"My daughter, Mira." Elyssa's worry returned to her voice. "She's in Kings-Landing, serving the woman who will soon be the new queen. I want to make sure she's safe."

"King's Landing," Lyra repeated the word, smiling at how grand it sounded. " Very well. I can probably head south and check up on her if you want me to."

Elyssa was stunned. "Why would you do that? You owe us nothing."

Lyra's reasons once again proved rather simple. "Because you seem like a decent person who's a had a run of bad luck. And when I meet someone like that, I try to even out that luck." Elyssa couldn't think of a response to the statement so Lyra continued. "Why aren't you ruling instead of Ethan?"

"What do you mean?" Elyssa asked.

"I mean, why was Ethan sent away to deal with the lordly duties and not you? He's a bright kid, but he's still a kid." Lyra said. "Why aren't you taking the reigns until he's older?"

Elyssa looked down to the dirt that crunched under her boots "It's not my place to rule."

"Why not?"

"Because I am a lady."

"What's that got to do with any..." Lyra's sentence slowed to a stop as she grasped Lady Forrester's meaning. "I see." She looked over to Elyssa with a newfound pity in her eyes. "Guess that explains it."

Elyssa smiled faintly. "I'd prefer it if it were the other way." She said, clasping her hands together. "Ethan is still far too young to be ruling let alone deal with everything that has happened to us." She looked at Lyra with a newfound curiosity. "You're saying women can rule where you come from?"

"Sure." Lyra nodded. "Rule, fight, strategize, command, just about anything any man can do. Some are good at it and some aren't but it all depends on who they are. Not what lies between their legs."

Elyssa smiled at the idea. "It does sound better where you're from."

Realizing it wouldn't help either of them to continue discussing that issue, Lyra pressed on about Ethan. "Is it just him ruling or does have a council or head advisor?"

"He does have a council, made up of myself, Maester Ortengryn, Duncan, and Ser Royland," Elyssa explained. "And beyond that, he will be expected to choose a sentinel to act as his right hand."

"A sentinel?" Lyra asked. "Any particular people stand out?"

"Duncan and Royland are the candidates and both are eager to prove themselves to the house," Elyssa revealed. "It will be up to Ethan to decide on who is more suited to the job." She looked at Lyra quizzically. "Why do you ask?"

Lyra shook her head. "Just curious. I'm a stranger here, remember?" She thought back to her talk with Malcolm earlier and gained a newfound hunch. "Your brother seemed to think I knew a man named Asher. Is he another family member?"

Elyssa frowned. "He's my second born son. Exiled to Essos over a matter with the Whitehills some time ago."

Lyra tilted her head. "That seems a bit harsh, what did he do?"

"He had a secret affair with Gwyn Whitehill."

"And?"

Elyssa was annoyed at her tone. "And the Whitehills have been enemies of our house for centuries."

"What's that got to do with Asher and Gwyn" Lyra asked. "Did she seem manipulative or hateful at all?"

Elyssa opened her mouth scream of course, but as she thought back to the young girl who always seemed to linger around Asher and the smile her son had whenever he mentioned her, she couldn't bring herself to. "No. I don't believe she inherited that from her father."

"So why not let the marriage go through?" Lyra asked. " It wouldn't change things between you overnight but it would've been a step in the right direction."

"Because Ludd Whitehill is a craven who would like nothing more than to walk amongst my family's corpses and laugh."

Lyra was taken aback by the hatred in Elyssa's voice. "Damn. He's that bad huh?"

Elyssa gave a swift nod. "He hates us. And there's nothing we can do to change that."

Lyra wondered if that was really true as the pair finally made it out of the forest and back to Ironrath. "Well like I said, I'm happy help in any way I can."

Elyssa once again smiled at the woman. "I appreciate that, lady Lyra."

Lyra chuckled at the added lady in front of her name but didn't feel the need to correct it.

"Lady Forrester," A guard came jogging up to them with a panicked expression painted on his face. "It's the Whitehills, they arrived just a few moments ago."

Elyssa's own expression mirrored the guard's and she looked at Lyra and then to her sword that sat strapped at her side. "Are you willing to use that?"

Lyra nodded. "Just as I am not to."

* * *

"Fucking Forresters!" The pair could here the Ludd's voice before they were even in the great hall. Lyra had to give the man credit of having a fierce voice but if that was really all he had, this might be easier than she thought.

"How do you want to play this?" She asked Elyssa just outside the hall.

Elyssa looked confused. "Play this?" She repeated.

"I mean do you want to walk in the front or a side entrance?" Lyra asked. "I'm going to try and make a spectacle of myself and I wanted to know if you want to as well."

Elyssa narrowed her gaze as she thought before replying. "I should be with my son. I'll enter closer to the throne."

Lyra nodded as Elyssa made it a point to enter the hall from a door closer to where her son would be standing. With her gone, she looked back to the guard who had accompanied them here. "About how many men does Ludd have with him?"

"I didn't get a good count, my lady." He admitted. "A dozen, maybe more?"

"Any outside?" She asked.

The guard shook his head. "It was a small party, they all went with him."

"What kind of a fucking house is this?!" Ludd's voice rang out again from beyond the doors right as the guards finished his words. Lyra nodded and let out a chuckle as a new voice replied to him.

"A house of honorable men." Elissa's voice replied to him. "You bellow like a wounded boar lord Whitehill. Have you forgotten your manners?"

Taking that as a sign, Lyra then kicked the doors open sending a loud "BANG" through the hall and gaining everyone's attention. The guard had been right, about fourteen men stood around Ludd all spread out in the hall, each one armed and mean looking enough to start a fight. Ethan stood directly in front of his throne with both Duncan and Ser Royland at his side. As well as Elyssa who quickly shuffled over to him. Gared was with them as well, still holding the sword of house Forrester at his side and glancing at her with worry. He didn't like the numbers at all.

"And who the fuck is this?" Ludd looked at Lyra like a lost pup who had wandered in from the woods.

"Name's Lyra." Lyra looked over the room yet again and saw about six Whitehill men were swarmed around the now lit hearth. "Am I interrupting something?"

"As a matter of fact, you are." A Whitehill soldier sneered at her.

She nodded and looked at Ludd. "What did I interrupt?"

"A matter that doesn't fucking concern you," Ludd spat at her. "And unless you want to be given to my men, fuck off."

A few dark chuckles came from Ludd's men who now eyed her like a piece of meat and Lyra bit her lower lip in annoyance. So far, Elyssa had been right in her summation of this man.

"Can we get back to the matter of your visit, lord Whitehill?" Ethan asked.

Ludd turned away from Lyra and back to the young lord. "I'm here because three of my men went fucking missing on your land."

"What were your soldiers doing on our land?" Ser Royland asked back to him.

"That doesn't fucking matter," Ludd told him. "What matters is they're gone. And seeing it was on your land that they disappeared, I expect some compensation."

"Compensation?" Duncan repeated with a half laugh. "For what?"

"Soldiers are expensive to train and seeing how it's your fault they're missing, it's only right that you pay up," Ludd explained with crossed arms like his logic was perfectly sane.

"How much would be required?" Ethan asked, doing his best to avoid a conflict between them.

Ludd smiled. "Three hundred silver stags seems like a reasonable amount."

"What?" Ethan asked back, stunned at the number.

"Each," Ludd replied with a sneer. "It wasn't just my men you who went missing, They were lord Bolton's as well. Consider this a way of proving your loyalty to us after your foolish father and brother died fighting for traitors."

Ethan looked over to Duncan. "Can we afford such a number?"

"I..." Duncan appeared to be just as stunned as he was. "I'm not sure my lord."

"If you can't right now, I'm more than willing to hold on to another Forrester until you can." He looked at Elissa and smiled. "Perhaps that young one of yours. Ryon maybe."

The horror in Elyssa and Ethan's eyes were all Lyra needed to see. "The three missing men," She spoke up. "Were they sent to a pig farm?" Lyra asked.

Ludd turned back to her with a vulture-like gaze. "What do you know about them?"

"How they died, where they're buried, more than you do really." Lyra smiled.

Ludd's anger didn't falter as he smiled at her. "Are you saying _you_ murdered them?"

"No of course not." Lyra shook her head. "They had this terrible disease, you see. Terminal stupidity. I had to stop it from spreading to Gared's family." She winked at the young pig farmer who smirked in response.

Ludd must've thought it was a joke because he began to laugh. His men soon joined in as well. "You expect me to believe a fucking woman killed three of my men?" He asked.

"Yeah," Lyra replied simply. "And if you don't shut your condescending mouth, I'll kill you too." Her voice hadn't been raised, yet her statement echoed through the hall like thunder. The laughs vanished and Ludd Whitehill turned so red she wondered if his head might explode. "You come into Ethan's home, acting all pissed at them because you couldn't keep track of your own men and have the balls to demand money for it?" She chuckled at his audacity. "If I was Ethan, I wouldn't give you a god damned thing. I'd even say you owe me an apology for acting like such a cunt."

The rage in Ludd's face was almost comical now. Every word she'd said had somehow made it worse and worse. "You're a mouthy one aren't you?" He asked her, walking towards her again until he stood just an inch or two apart from her. "I'm told that mouthy ones make good whores."

"They do," Lyra replied. "I'm sure we could find you a brothel if you're looking for work."

Ludd's temper finally flared and pulled back his hand to bring it down across Lyra's cheek. Before he could do so, Lyra smashed her forehead against his nose, sending him stumbling back a few steps. His men soon drew their blades as he groaned out and held his nose and Lyra did the same. "Soldiers," She spoke to the Whitehill soldiers in a cold tone. "I'm going to give you one chance to walk out of here and back to your homes. If you don't, I'll send you to your missing men here and now."

They didn't get a moment to consider her offer as Ludd bellowed. "FUCKING KILL HER!"

Lyra looked to the hearth again and with a wave of her swordless hand, the hearth's fire exploded outward and swallowed up all six of the men who had stood to close to it. Screams echoed through the hall and those who hadn't been taken by the flames charged towards her. Unfortunately, these men proved to be just as clumsy and lacking as the three she had met at Gared's farm. One by one, each fell to the ground with their throats cut, heads removed, or lungs punctured. Her sword cleaving through their armor and skin like butter and sending waves of shock to the witnesses. Ethan, Elyssa, Duncan, Gared, and Ser Royland's mouths hung open at the carnage occurring before them while Ludd quickly began to panic.

He'd never seen this happen before. If that explosion from the hearth wasn't bad enough, this nobody, this fucking nobody, was now fighting through eight battle-hardened veterans from the War of the Five Kings. And winning. No single swordsman, let alone a woman should've been able to do that, or at least make it look this effortless.

As another soldier fell to the ground with his throat slit, Lyra spun around to swat away attempted strike at her back. Disarming the man and plunging the sword right into his stomach. She removed the blade just as quickly and spun around again to the final three still standing. Each with looks of horror on their faces. "Last warning." She told them. The three looked at each other and their faces turned to ones of resolution. They would not die cowards. Together, the trio charged at her, swords raised and aimed at various points of her body. One at the neck, one at the hip, and one at her leg. It was a good strategy, Lyra admitted. Any other swordsman would be hard pressed to fight off three blades attacking at once from different angles.

"SU" Lyra shouted. And in a move that neither the Forresters nor Whitehill could track, she disarmed and killed all three men who had charged at her. Each falling to the ground after three quick slices of her blade.

With the room finally cleared of Whitehill men, Lyra turned towards lord Whitehill himself. It took him a moment to snap out of his shock but when he did, he looked like a wild boar ready to charge.

"Y-You..." Blood from his injured nose leaked down his face as he pulled out his own sword. "You'll regret that."

"Ludd, I've just killed fourteen men," Lyra smirked, sheathing her sword. "If you really think you can beat me after seeing that," She held her arms out. "Come and try."

Lyra could tell Ludd was considering spinning around and charging towards Ethan or another member of his family. And even with Gared, Ser Royland, and Duncan there, it was going to be risky for the young lord as long as he had that weapon on him. "ZUN" She yelled out.

An unseen force blasted Ludd's sword right out of his hand and towards the blazing hearth and it's burned, victims. And before he could even think of how that happened, Lyra spoke again. "WULD" She shot towards him with speed of the wind and plunged her fist into his stomach. His gasps for air did nothing to stop her as he suffered a knee to his still bleeding nose, breaking it, and plunged her elbow into his jaw. A violent snap could be heard by the Forresters before a cry of pain from Ludd echoed through the room. Stumbling back yet again, Lyra finally decided to get him off his feet with a quick kick to his left knee. Another horrible snap was heard and Ludd cried out yet again as he fell down to one knee as the other looked to be snapped out of its place.

"Come now, Ludd." Lyra smiled at the Whitehill who could only look up in horror as the fire from the hearth behind her gave off an outline made her entire silhouette seem demonic. "I thought you would be better than this."

With a last ditch effort, Ludd reached out with his right arm to grab her by the throat. Lyra caught as effortlessly as she had decimated his men and quickly began snapping each finger he had. Each one getting louder, and louder matching his cries of pain. "You sided with the Boltons," Lyra told him, kneeling down to his level. "A group of traitors who slaughtered a family at their wedding. Either you've got shit tastes in allies, or you're just as bad as they are. Which is it?"

If Ludd was going to reply, he didn't get the chance as Lyra quickly snapped his wrist along with his remaining finger.

Ludd's cries of pain finally proved too much for the young lord. "LYRA!" Ethan's voice called out from the throne.

Lyra looked back to him with a blank expression. "What do you want to do with him?"

"I want you to stop hurting him," Ethan told her, doing his best to put on a commanding tone.

Lyra looked back at Ludd and nodded. "As you wish." One final knee to Ludd's temple knocked him to the ground, finally silencing him, and Lyra once again waved her hand towards the hearth. This time the fire dimmed back into a low healthy flame and Lyra looked back up to Ethan. "He's alive," She told him. "Now you should decide what you want to do with him." She told Ethan and his counsel before looking around at the mess of dead and burned bodies. "I'll get to cleaning this up."

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's that. Hope you guys enjoyed it. Until we meet again, Gods guide you**.


	4. Chapter 4: Planning for the Future

Getting the bodies of the now deceased Whitehill soldiers out of the great hall went quickly enough. Most of them could be dragged off rather easily but the ones that had been consumed by the fire from the hearth were tougher to move. The fire had not only fused their skin to the armor that they wore but had also severely weakened their bones. Making tearing off a piece of armor or a limb from wherever Lyra grabbed rather easy. But still, she persisted in getting the bodies out of sight. Dragging them, one by one out of Ironrath and towards the front gate. Tiring work for someone alone but luckily Gared, and Duncan came to assist. Both of them still too stunned by what they had witnessed to offer any meaningful conversation but Lyra was appreciative of the help all the same.

As Gared brought the last body and tossed it onto the pile. Lyra looked over to Duncan who had been staring at her for a good long while. "I told you I'd handle it."

Duncan snapped out of his trance. "I suppose you did," He grimaced at the pile of dead soldiers as Gared moved back over to them. "Was that magic? What you did to them?"

"The fire, yes." Her talk with Elyssa had reminded her that what she had done was not very common in these parts so she figured she'd have to get used to explaining herself. "Where I'm from, magic is more prevalent than it is here. And when it is called upon in battle, it takes many different forms."

Duncan could barely bring himself to nod at the information but Gared seemed to grasp it rather quickly. "What about those sounds you made?" He asked. "Were those words from another language?"

Lyra nodded to the young squire. "A different type of magic. Would you care for another example?"

Gared nodded while Duncan's silence spoke for him. Lyra looked back over to the pile and spoke. "YOL"

A stream of fire materialized into being right in front of three and swept over the pile of bodies. Setting them ablaze as if they were coated in flammable oils.

"That is the power of dragons," Lyra told the two before bowing her head. She mumbled a small string of strange words together that, to Gared's ear, almost sounded like a prayer before straightening back up. She looked out to the setting sun and realized just how late in the day it was. "If it's all the same to you, I think I'm going to get some rest. I doubt tomorrow will be any less peaceful than today."

She walked away from the pair after that, right back into Ironrath and the room where she had put on her new clothes. With the door closed behind her, she let out a deep sigh and rubbed her eyes in annoyance. "Gods damn it." She said aloud. "Just once, it would be nice if someone took the warning." She looked down at her clothes, she'd been lucky not to get a noticeable amount of blood on them so she didn't need to change. She walked back over to her table and picked back up the book she'd been reading, simply titled _The North._

The next few hours came and went for Lyra, the only thing taking her out of her reading was the shifting sunlight bathing her room and the surrounding Ironrath in shades of orange as it set over the horizon. The rest of Ironrath, or the lords and ladies to be more specific, were more focused on the pyre of bodies that still burned well into the night. And while the Forresters took stock of what they had seen and the prisoner they now kept in their dungeon, Gared found himself tending to Tuttle family pigs trying desperately to think about anything else.

"Seven hells," He coughed as he shoveled what used to be pig feed out the newly makeshift pig pen.

"Spent too long with the army I see," Cedric chuckled. "The Gared I raised wouldn't pay no mind to pig shit."

"I guess I am a bit out of practice," Gared replied. Another cough caught his and his father's attention. "What's your excuse, uncle?"

Duncan shoveled another load out of the pen and chuckled. "Laugh it up, Gared."

Gared did indeed laugh it up, as did Cedric. The three Tuttles back to doing what Tuttles do best. "It's good to be..." Gared wanted to say back home, but he wasn't. "...with you and Jenna again." He looked around to see his younger sister but she was nowhere to be found. "Where is she anyway?"

"She'd been helping me since we got here, and since we hopefully won't be here for long, I let her roam around, take in the view," Cedric told his son. Not a moment later Gared caught sight of his sister running around with Ryon and Talia. Probably one of the few times she had other children to play with. "That's nice of you, father,"

"See, that can't be Cedric." Duncan chimed in. "He'd never let Jenna go off and have fun."

Cedric shrugged at his brother's words. "Jenna's a bright girl. And though I'd prefer if she stayed on the farm and took over for me, something tells me she'll grow out of it as you two did."

Gared went quiet at his words but Duncan seemed to take issue with them. "Some of us just aren't meant for this life, Ced," Duncan told him. "And if Gared hadn't been with lords Gregor and Rodrik, he'd never have brought back the Forrester sword. He's done a great service to this house."

Gared was thankful for the compliment but didn't really believe he deserved it. All he did was run from a massacre and back to his home. If anything Lyra had done a far bigger service to house Forrester than he had. "About Lyra," He looked to his uncle Duncan whose face had shifted into a frown. "Uncle, have you seen anyone move as she did? The fire, the fighting, the speed," He was almost stunned into silence as he thought back to the incident earlier and the fourteen men who now blazed just outside the walls.

"I can't say I have, Gared." Ducan told his nephew. "She's much more than meets the eye."

"She's powerful, I'll give you that but I think she's all right," Cedric told the pair. "Helped me out with the pigs."

"Tywin Lannister could help you out with the pigs and you'd say he's all right." Duncan scolded his brother. "Just because they help you, doesn't mean they should be trusted."

To that, Cedric's only response was, "If we can't trust someone who helps us, who can we trust?"

Neither Gared nor Duncan had an answer for him.

* * *

Lyra hadn't been expecting another knock at her door until the next morning. She figured the Forresters would spend the rest of the night either debating on what they had just seen happen or attempting to plan for the eventual consequences of what they had seen happen. Nevertheless, a knock at her door did occur. Only this time when she said "Come in", the lord Forrester was the one who came into view rather than his uncle. "You're up late,"

"Well, I had a busy day." Ethan smiled and sat himself down across the table from her. "We got lord Whitehill into his new room and hopefully the men who were with him were the only ones who know he's was here. Everyone who saw what you did, or can do, has decided they're going to keep that to themselves."

"Nice of you, but you don't have to keep it a secret," Lyra said. "Word's going to get out eventually."

"It's already done," Ethan replied, sounding far too tired. " No sense in gathering everyone back again." He scratched his head leaned back into his chair. He went quiet for a good while, seemingly enjoying the crackling of Lyra's fire to much to speak over it.

"Why did you want him spared?" Lyra asked.

Ethan looked back to her with a raised eyebrow. "Lord Whitehill?"

Lyra nodded. "If he's going to cause you problems in the future, you should've just let me kill him. You wanted him alive."

Ethan looked at the fire before nodding. "I did."

"Any particular reason?" Lyra asked.

"I wanted to take stock what killing him would mean for us," Ethan told her, sounding more emotionless than he usually did. "I didn't have enough time to do it in the throne room once you started killing his men."

His tone wasn't ungrateful but Lyra felt annoyed with it all the same. "Would you have preferred I did nothing?" Lyra asked, crossing her arms. "Let him walk all over you and your family?"

Ethan slammed his fist onto the table. "I don't know! Maybe?!" Lyra seemed too surprised by the outburst to respond in time so Ethan continued. "Maybe that was all just talk meant to scare us! Maybe he was serious about wanting compensation and maybe I should've given it to him! Or maybe you're right and you should've killed him. I don't know because I couldn't think." His voice began to fall but his frustration stayed his hand fell back to his side. "He just kept shouting, you kept taunting him, and...I couldn't think."

The disappointment in his lingered in the room like the smell of a rotting corpse. And when the young lord didn't continue, Lyra took it as a sign to speak. "You should know that's a normal feeling for a leader. Wondering if you made the right decision."

"Father or Rodrik wouldn't have wondered," Ethan replied, thinking the comparison spoke for itself. "They would've known exactly what to do in that situation."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," Ethan replied. He crossed his arms and lowered his head. "I try to be like them. I really try, but I'm not."

Lyra knew she was in an awkward position. The young lord of a family had all but revealed to her the insecurity of his new position. And she had a hunch that whatever she said next would stay with him for a good long while. With that in mind, she spoke. "You know what the three most powerful words in history are?"

"What?"

"The three most powerful words in history," Lyra repeated. "Do you know what they are?"

"I don't think so."

"Many don't," Lyra smirked. "Ofaal avok nii"

"What does that mean?"

"Get over it," Lyra explained. "Ethan, bad things are going to happen to you all the time. Sometimes they come to you, other times you stumble onto them. You might make a wrong decision that comes back to bite you in the ass or divines forbid, get someone you love killed. And there's no shame in thinking on your decisions every now and then. But once the decision is made, whether right or wrong, you can either curl up into a ball and sulk about it or..."

"Get over it." Ethan finished for her.

Lyra nodded. "Always keep an eye focused on what's on the horizon, and make sure you have the will to get yourself and those you love to that horizon. Even if you have to go through some terrible stuff along the way."

Ethan nodded but to make sure he actually understood her, Lyra pressed on. "So, what should've been done with lord Whitehill?" She asked.

Ethan was quiet for a moment before replying. "It doesn't matter now," He looked back to Lyra with a newfound determination in his eyes. "What's done is done, and all we can do now is look to the future."

Lyra's respect for the young lord grew yet again. "All right Ethan," She smiled and leaned closer to the young lord. "What plan are you hatching?"

"I'll be discussing the details of it tomorrow with my council, and I'd like you to be there," Ethan replied, dimming Lyra's excitement. "But I want to ask you what you thought of fighting with us."

"Did you really need to ask me that?" Lyra laughed.

Ethan was caught off guard by the question. "This whole mess really doesn't involve you, no one would judge you for leaving." He told her before she silenced him with a raised hand.

She looked at him like he had forgotten their conversation in the great hall. "I told you, you're my friend. And I stick by my friends, no matter what mess they fall into."

Ethan nodded and for a second, almost forgot he was talking to someone who wasn't a north-woman. His chuckle caught Lyra's attention.

"Something funny?" She asked.

"Sorry, I had to remind myself that you're not from the North." He said. "You act like someone who is."

Lyra tilted her head as she thought. "Skyrim was the northernmost province back in Tamriel, so maybe that's it."

A childlike curiosity reappeared in Ethan's eyes as she finished her words. "Tamriel?" He asked. "That's your home continent?"

"Yep." She nodded and leaned back in her chair. "Skyrim's a cold home but if you're clever and tough, there's none better. Certainly better than likes of Morrowind or Black Marsh."

The words confused Ethan. "Those are other provinces?"

"Yep." Lyra nodded. "Ancestral homes to the Dunmer and Argonians."

Ethan's curiosity grew with the words. "What are those?"

"The Dunmer are Dark Elves and Argonians are...well Argonians." Lyra laughed, deciding that the actual description for the reptilian people would get nothing but laughter from the young lord. "You'd really need to see them for yourself."

"Elves?" Ethan chuckled. He must've liked the name. "What are they?"

"Well, that depends on which elf race you mean?" Lyra told him, rubbing her head. He could get back to being serious and planning ahead tomorrow. For now, she decided to let him be an inquisitive boy. "You got the Dark Elves, High Elves, Wood Elves. Or the Dunmer, Altmer, and Bosmer, if you like."

"Race?"

"I guess it's the type of person we are," Lyra replied, tapping her chest. "Me, I'm a Nord of Skyrim."

The pair continued their talk for a while. Lyra giving a bit of information here and there about the people she shared her continent with as well as the adventures she went on. Bandits, assassins, thieves, she had run-ins with them all and every encounter made for an excellent story to the young lord. Eventually, he decided that he'd heard enough for one night and left her room after a thankful nod. Once he was gone, she leaned over to her pack. It was time to take stock of her equipment.

She combed through her belongings and pulled out several rolled up scrolls each with words etched on to the outermost roll. IRON, STEEL, GLASS, LEATHER, WOLF, DWEMER, POTIONS, MISC, she sorted each of them and more out onto her table. Stopping once when she eyed one that had the word DAEDRA written on it. "I wonder what you guys would think of Westeros. Probably just another breeding ground for you to make Talos' knows how many messes. But still, I wonder."

* * *

The next morning, Lyra gathered with the rest of the Forrester Council to discuss what was to come with the patriarch of House Whitehill safely stored in their dungeon.

"All right," She looked back to Duncan. "When can we expect some retaliation?"

The castellan nodded and spoke. "Gryff will not realize his father is missing for some time, and even after that, it will take some time to gather his own forces to attack us. A few weeks to a month, maybe." He pointed down at the map and area around Ironrath. "When he does though, he'll come down hard."

"What are the odds he brings the Boltons with him?" Lyra asked.

"Unlikely." Ser Royland said."Their army is just now coming back north from the Twins. But lord Roose may send his bastard Ramsay if Gryff requests his aid."

Lyra nodded and continued. "How many men?"

"I can't be sure." Royland shook his head. "Gryff is more unpredictable than Ludd. But let's assume he brings everyone he can and we deal with about a hundred men."

Maybe I can head him off. Lyra thought to herself. "Where is the Whitehill home?"

Duncan's finger glided over the map away from the Wolfswood and to an area seemingly lacking any trees. "It's a castle called Highpoint. You plan on going there?"

Lyra tilted her head. "It's an option. I tell him you have his father hostage, and if he wants to see him again, he needs to put the past behind and actually ally with you."

The word ally seemed to catch the rest of the room by surprise and a small silence enveloped the room. "Ally," Lyra repeated, surprised by their own hesitation. "What were you expecting me to suggest? We kill every Whitehill in existence?"

It was meant to be a joke but the silence that followed proved that had been thinking about that very idea.

"It's not unheard of," Elyssa admitted, surprising Lyra with how dark the woman's mind went.

Lyra bit her tongue. She knew the option was there but she had hoped no one here would bring it up. "Well, I'm not going to do that. So alliance it is."

"How?" Ethan asked, clasping his hands together.

She looked at him and the rest of the group like it was simple. "What's wrong with signing a piece of parchment?" Lyra asked. "A promise to bury the past and stand by one another?"

The room was silent again before the Maester let out a chuckle."That might work where you are from, but here alliances usually need a physical side to things." Ortengryn explained. "A marriage, ideally."

A marriage between feuding families. That was going to be a hard nut to crack. "Okay," Lyra put a hand under her chin as she thought of an answer. "Are there any Forresters around Gryff's age that would be ok with that?"

"The closest would be Talia." Ortengryn pointed out.

"That's not happening," Ethan spoke again, surprising Lyra with how stern his reply was. But after she thought about it, it made sense. Talia and he were twins and she was probably the closest to him along with Ryon. With her out of the selection, Lyra's thoughts drifted back to a name Elyssa had mentioned yesterday. "What about Asher?"

The room went quiet again though this time in shock. Lyra looked back to Elyssa."You told me he was banished for having an affair with a Whitehill girl. Let's get him back here and marry her. If they still like each other, anyway."

Lyra noticed Royland and Duncan slowly nod. It wasn't a nice idea but it was one they could live with. "But Asher's all the way in Essos." Duncan reminded the room. "You'd need to send someone to find him."

"I discussed it with Malcolm," Elyssa explained. She looked up to the throne where her son sat. "If you think we should, he'll head to Essos immediately."

Ethan closed his eyes for a moment before nodding. "He has my permission. Let's bring Asher home." Elyssa nodded and left the room quickly.

Ser Royland nodded as well and refocused on the current problem. "But even if we find Asher and the Whitehill girl agrees to the marriage, that still leaves Gryff and the Boltons."

Lyra thought back to the group of Whitehill soldiers she had fought yesterday and how poorly skilled they seemed. "I can probably deal with the rest of the Whitehills myself if it comes to that, but these Boltons are still a mystery to me." She looked to Forrester master at arms. "Where are they?"

"Their family home is the Dreadfort," Ser Royland pointed at the not so pleasantly named home on the map before dragging it across the landscape of the North. "but they took up residence at Winterfell after Robb Stark and his brothers were killed." He tapped the castle known as Winterfell twice to make sure she understood where it was."

"Okay." Lyra nodded. " And my guess is the Boltons won't take kindly to a family whose supposed to be serving them, betray them and take the leader of a loyal house hostage."

"The flayed man isn't their sigil because they're a forgiving sort." Ser Royland pointed out.

Lyra looked at him, horrified. "Their family sigil is a man being flayed?"

"Aye." Ser Royland frowned as he thought of the recently appointed Warden of the North. "Roose Bolton is a cruel man but he's clever. And where his bastard Ramsay lacks in the latter, he makes up in the former."

Lyra blinked as she pictured what two men might've looked like. "Sound like a pair of cunts." She said, earning a chuckle from Ethan.

"They are indeed." Duncan nodded. "But they control the North. And would likely never have less than two or three thousand men at Winterfell."

If Lyra seemed bothered by the number, she didn't outwardly show it. "Is the three thousand men just Boltons?" She asked.

"Yes," Ethan answered. "But as Wardens, they can call on other houses to join them. The Manderlys, the Karstarks, the Umbers, the Glovers, they all have to submit to them now. As well as all the houses that serve under them."

Lyra figured she might as well assume the worst, as it usually always happened and asked. "And with all of them together?"

Ethan went silent due to what Lyra theorized as silent calculation. "Fifteen to twenty thousand men seems like the right number." He replied looking over to his Maester who gave nod confirming it. "They'd be weakened from fighting in the south but the number shouldn't be that far off."

The young lord's words caused Lyra to frown. Twenty thousand was a more troublesome number for her, but that was only possible if the Boltons could gather the other houses to them to stop her. She would need to act fast if they were going to avoid a monumental bloodbath.

"The Boltons betrayed the Starks, right? So odds are they don't have the complete loyalty of all the major houses just yet." Lyra looked to Ortengryn. "Does house Forrester have allies it can call upon?"

Ortengryn's eyes perked up in realization. "There are the Glenmores."

"Glenmores?" Lyra asked.

"Yes, Lady Elaena was to marry lord Rodrik before the war began. With him gone, there would need to be a new match for the alliance to be sealed."

"What if I marry her?" Everyone in the room looked up to the throne that Ethan sat on. His hands were clasped together and his eyes were focused on the map between the group.

Ortengryn nodded. "That would certainly work, my lord."

"Are you joking right now?" Lyra asked the Maester. "Cause I'm not laughing."

"It is certainly, possible," Duncan spoke up, earning a wide-eyed glare from Lyra.

"Can you stop being okay with this!" Lyra switched her glare from Duncan to Ethan. "And you don't need to throw out any ideas, like that. This is serious."

"So am I," Ethan replied. "I'm keeping an eye on the horizon." He got up from his throne and started down the steps to the rest of the group. "If lady Elaena will have me, I will marry her."

"Ethan," Lyra barely held back a nervous chuckle. "You're too young to even think about that."

"Tell me another way we can get house Glenmore to stand with us," Ethan replied, more to the rest of the room than to Lyra. When no answer came, he let out a worried sigh. "I didn't think so." He clenched his fists on the map and closed his eyes. "I know Elaena would've preferred Rodrik and I wish he was here instead of me." When his eyes reopened, the same determination Lyra had seen in them the night before was burning again. "But he's not, and I need to get over it."

Lyra wanted to slap the kid. It was more than a little annoying hearing him repeat her words back to her in a way that justified his reasoning. But she held her tongue. They still had time to figure out another way to end this mess, hopefully without child-marriage. It would still take time for Gryff to figure out what happened to his father, a few weeks or a month if they were lucky. But she also conceded that he had a point. They really needed to look to the future to make sure they were really safe. With that in mind, Lyra looked back at the Winterfell sigil on the map. "If you manage to ally with the Glenmores and make peace with Whitehills, how do we know the Boltons will leave you alone?"

"We don't." Ser Royland told her. "We're certainly not a threat to them but Roose might send his bastard over here just to alleviate his boredom. Why do you ask?"

Lyra's gaze stayed on Winterfell. "I was thinking about paying them a visit. See if they're as bad as I hear. But," Her eyes started to drift down the map, southward, out of the North and passed the Riverlands and Stormlands "Elyssa seemed worried about Mira in Kings-Landing."

Duncan nodded. "Aye, she's a handmaiden to the soon to be queen Margaery Tyrell. You'd think it would be a safe place but..."

"But Kings-Landing is a rat's nest." Ser Royland finished, practically spitting the sentence out. "Tywin Lannister is the power down there as is his family. He's the Hand of the King, his daughter's the queen mother, his grandson is the king and his two sons..." Ser Royland paused for a moment to find his words. "His oldest son is a Kingsguard. Probably back in the city by now. "

"Lannisters," Lyra repeated the word aloud and tapped the capital city on the map. It certainly sounded like they were the ones in power. "What about the other son?" She asked. "You said he had two."

"The imp?" Ethan chuckled. "That would be Tyrion Lannister."

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Why's he called the Imp?"

"Well, he's a dwarf." Duncan chuckled.

Everything in Lyra's mind came to a screeching halt. Her thoughts on going to Winterfell and seeing the Boltons, Her frustration at Ethan throwing his young life away for an alliance, her empty stomach that hadn't yet been filled with breakfast. All of it, frozen as if caught in a blizzard. "He's what?" She asked back to the pair, deadly serious. Duncan and Royland looked at each other and back to her and nodded. Confirming what she had heard to be true. She looked back up to Ethan and spoke, "I think I need to go to Kings-Landing."

* * *

**A/N: So, I decided to scrap the Gared goes to the Night's Watch and the North Grove quest from the game. It really didn't lead to anything, and all it did was leave more questions than answers for those of us that played it. A welcomed change I think but if you were looking forward to that, I'm sorry. Anyway, I hope I did a decent enough job with this one. I was hoping to give Ethan a little more personality this time around but we'll see how well it turned out.**

**Until we meet again, gods guide you.**


	5. Chapter 5: Using Fear

After the revelation she'd had back in the great hall, Lyra knew she'd have to head down to King's Landing sooner rather than later. The idea of meeting an actual Dwemer was too tempting to pass up. Strange he was the only one considering he was part of a family but the idea that he was adopted didn't seem too far fetched. Imp, though? That was a strange-sounding name to give to one of the last Dwemer wasn't it? She'd have to see for herself why that was a nickname. But that would have to come after she had helped the rest of the Forrester family survive.

The first ones who threatened them were the Whitehills, a family that seemed hungry for Forrester blood. Peace would not be easy especially with their patriarch now in a Forrester dungeon, but she'd make them realize that crossing the Forresters was a mistake, one way or another. And she'd have to do it before the Glenmores could say yes to Ethan marrying their eldest daughter and uniting their house. She rubbed the back of her neck as she thought of what a wedding would look like.

She didn't have a face for the Glenmore girl but she could practically see Ethan's fake smile as he carried out his duty to his family and the growing unhappiness from his father and brother's death fester well into his adulthood. Perhaps he could find a way to make a happy life from it, the boy had a good head and a good heart after all, but Lyra didn't feel like taking the chance. At least, not until there was no other choice. Stranger in the land or not, some of the traditions in this place were far too strange for her liking.

She spent the rest of the day continuing her book readings and occasionally speaking to the Maester about whatever the books lacked. Mainly she read about the Boltons and the Lannisters, the two big families she'd be meet in the coming days.

The Boltons certainly had the bloodier history of the two. It went back thousands of years to the time when they wore the skins of their enemies as cloaks and fought against the Starks back when they were called the Kings of Winter. A wonderful sounding title as far as she was concerned but that was beside the point. The Starks proved their generous nature by making the Boltons bend the knee and one of their bannermen. A deal that seemed to work well enough for centuries until the War of Five Kings and the subsequent Red Wedding where the Boltons betrayed and killed the King in the North Robb Stark and his family. Usurping their title as Warden of the North.

With every word she read, her opinion of the family lowered. It seemed about every single person in their bloodline was a cruel, skin removing bastard or bitch and anyone who wasn't was either married off or killed. Likely by members of their own family. It was a family of cruel warriors who enjoyed causing havoc on others and the two at the head now, Roose and Ramsay were no exception.

The Lannisters on the other hand, they were an altogether different beast. Their history went back just as far as the Starks and was much more varied than that of the Boltons. Supposedly the first one of note, Lann the Clever, had swindled the Casterlys out of their home of Casterly Rock and kept the name as a reminder to not to be crossed or underestimated. The Lannisters after him have had all been a myriad of characters. Warriors, soldiers, kings, knights, occasional Hand to the King, it painted a more complicated picture of the family than the Boltons did. That wasn't to say they couldn't be just as ruthless. No, for every incompetent or kind Lannister there was always one that could be ruthless and cruel. Such a divide was no more apparent than with the current head of the family Tywin and his father Tytos.

From what she read about Tytos, he was far too kind or weak-willed to govern efficiently and laughed when he and his family were openly mocked by their bannermen. During his tenure the Lannister family lost much of the respect and loyalty it had gathered over the centuries and if the books were to be believed, nearly caused the collapse of their house. A sad tale all around as far as Lyra was concerned. She always enjoyed a leader who didn't take his or herself too seriously and let out the occasional laugh, but there was a time and a place to be serious and resolute as well, and poor Tytos didn't seem to know or care when that time was.

Enter his son, Tywin. A man who vowed from a young age not to be like his father. He was cold, ruthless, and pragmatic. When he took over from his father, he wiped out two families who had mocked the Lannisters the most and had the tale of their demise turned into a song to serve as a warning. A brilliant political move if you discounted that every man, woman, and child of the Tarbeck and Reynes families, guilty and innocent alike were either killed or drowned. From there, Tywin's power only grew.

He was named the Hand of the King and served alongside his childhood friend Aerys Targaryen. As Hand, he ran the whole of Westeros for decades and it was a peaceful reign until the Aerys fully devolved to his title of the Mad King went mad enough to send him away. The two's paths wouldn't cross again until the final days of Robert's Rebellion where Tywin returned to King's Landing with the Lannister army at his back. He then sacked the city and his son Jaime killed the king while his servant The Mountain killed the Prince Rhaegar's family. From there, his daughter Cersei married the new king Robert Baratheon and had three children. The current king Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella.

But his story didn't stop there, once the War of Five Kings had begun he marched North to the Riverlands to deal with Robb Stark's forces and while he never won a battle against the Young Wolf he kept him from getting further south than he would've liked. His only real victory during the war was saving King's Landing from an attack by Stannis Baratheon and his family from extinction. And an impressive one it was. Joffrey declared him Hand yet again and now he sat in King's Landing planning the demise of all those who still took up arms against his family.

She knew she was forgetting somethings about him and his family and would likely forget more before her path ever crossed his. But from what she understood about the man, he was above everything else, a pragmatist. He could do cruel, reprehensible things and he did them all to ensure his family's survival and increase the power of their family name. He was smart too, probably the smartest political mind in the entire country. Who's to say he wouldn't know about Tamriel or the Akavir or any of the other countries she knew about? The point was, she could work with him if the time came. Though, she'd also make it a point to ask him if such brutal measures he'd taken were necessary. Especially the murder of children.

Then there was Tyrion, the so-called Imp. He wasn't mentioned anywhere in the books she read which made sense to her. A live Dwemer in this strange country, no soul would probably know what to make of him.

That could all wait though. The Lannisters came after the Boltons who in turn came after the Whitehills on the list of families she had to cross paths with. That path itself started the next morning.

Packing went swiftly enough as everything Lyra had brought with her was still safely stored in her travel pack and with clothes on her back and a sword at her side, she didn't feel as if she was missing anything. She said her farewells to Ethan, Elyssa, Duncan and Ser Royland, and started towards the gate of Ironrath. Her walk to the gate went without interruption until she was stopped by a pig farmer.

"You're leaving?" Gared asked.

"I've got to go deal with these Whitehills before heading down south," Lyra replied. "Make sure they don't come back requesting you or your family's heads."

Gared thought about the conversation he had with his father and uncle the previous night. Cedric's seemingly simple faith in a woman who wanted to help and the caution of Duncan in wondering if that was even true. "Why are you still helping us?" He asked.

Lyra looked at him like she didn't understand."What?"

The voice had an air of annoyance but Gared persisted. "You're not family, you're not a servant, you just showed up and are helping us."

Lyra sighed. Was decency so rare in this land? She knew the answer was yes after brushing up on history the night before but still. "Look, I don't like standing around and watching good people get hurt. I'm not doing this because I've sworn loyalty to your family or some other nonsense, I'm helping you because I want to. Understand?"

Gared searched for any semblance of a lie he could find. A nervous blink, an uncomfortable shrug, anything that could remind him of the soldiers he had met at the Red Wedding right before things went to hell. There was no sign of anything, either she was a master at deception or even more troublesome for him, she was telling the truth. He decided it was the latter. "Then I should go with you." He marched back into the makeshift pigpen to grab something.

Lyra chuckled. "Excuse me?"

Gared returned with a sword and sheath in hand, likely grabbed from the armory. "My father and sister will be safe here in Ironrath,"

"And so will you," Lyra told him, crossing her arms. "Because you're not going with me."

"My lady," Gared started to strap the sheath of his sword to his waist. "I don't like living indebted to people I don't know."

"You're not in my debt," Lyra said.

"Yes, I am." He replied. "And even if I wasn't, my family can never be safe until the Whitehills and Boltons are gone. And I don't care how much magic or sword skill you have, one person can't take on an army without a squire by their side."

Lyra looked at the young man with an expression that Gared couldn't very well describe. Annoyance? Surprise? Maybe a bit of humor? It was a strange one but after a moment of thought, it vanished. Being replaced with a simple smile.

"Very well, Gared." Lyra conceded. "I could use someone who knows this land at my side. But I'll give you the same warning as I give to others who travel with me, you'll likely see things you could never imagine. And when you have questions, please don't pile them on all at once. Is that understood?"

There wasn't a hint of speculation in her voice. There was no maybe about what she had just said, it was a statement of fact. All the same, Gared nodded. "I understand."

"Excellent. Follow me." The pair walked right up to the gate of Ironrath and she looked towards the standing guards. "Tell Lord Ethan that we'll be back soon." The guards nodded and Lyra and Gared started into the forest. Once out of sight of the guards, Lyra knelt to one knee and slid her pack off her shoulders. "Now, get on my back."

Gared's eyes widened. "What?"

"You'll have to carry my pack on yours if we want to move quickly." She replied, popping her neck as if getting ready for a light jog.

Gared took it from her hand but kept his bewildered look. "Why not just ask for horses?"

"No need," Lyra replied. "We'll be at Highpoint quick enough this way. Now get on."

"This is ridiculous."

"Either you get on, or I'm leaving you here." Lyra's tone turned serious and Gared knew there was no talking her out of it. He did as he was told and climbed on her back.

"You're a bit heavier than I'd have thought." Lyra laughed, standing back to her feet. "And keep your mouth closed while I'm running. Bugs do taste terrible."

Gared opened his mouth to ask yet another question but Lyra was far quicker. "WULD NA KEST!"

The air behind them blasted them forward onto the kingsroad. Each step she took, another blast of air propelled them further forward until they were well into the forest.

* * *

Gared wasn't sure how much time passed when they finally arrived at Highpoint, the one thing he knew for sure was that they shouldn't be able to get there that fast. The second it was within walking distance he couldn't get off the Nord's back fast enough. Once on the ground, Lyra could hear the boy throw up which did amuse her. Moving at that speed was undoubtedly new to him so his body needed a moment to react and adjust. Which worked well enough for and gave her some time to get acquainted with their new surroundings.

Highpoint was yet another beautiful looking castle, though one that seemed to have some disrepair as evidenced by a few damaged towers. And where Ironrath had miles and miles of forest surrounding it and an air of calm and life to it, this one was barren almost desert-like even. An odd sight as she expected grass to at least be growing around the keep. But not even grass dared to grow near this place. Leaving only dusty, dry, cold dirt in its place. alongside hundreds of rotting or rotten stumps where trees once had been growing. The air around the castle was different as well. A sense of fear and anger lingered over the land that made Lyra's stomach turn. The sooner she dealt with this the better.

"You finished yet?"

When Gared finally regained his composure. He nodded. "I think so. What was that?"

"My way of getting around when I'm short on time," Lyra replied. She looked out towards the surrounding empty hills expecting to see some sort of nearby town or hamlet but there was nothing. Nothing for what looked like miles in every direction. "Not fond of forests these Whitehills?"

"They used to have just as much woodland as the Forresters. But they chopped them all down without any forethought." Gared replied. "Or at least, that's how Lord Gregor told it."

"Interesting," Lyra said, putting that information in the back of her mind for future use. "We'll walk from here,"

The pair's walk was uneventful and Gared was acting strangely quiet considering what he had seen from her so she decided to prod the young pig farmer into asking. "So, no questions?"

"About how you, " He struggled to come with a word for it? "Magically sprint?"

Lyra let out a laugh. "I prefer dash, but magically sprint is a good one."

"Is it any different than what you told me back at the farm?" Gared asked. "Using the language of dragons to use magic?"

"Good, you remember." Lyra nodded. "Same principle, just a different word."

"So, does that mean you don't need to ride horses?" Gared asked.

"Not if I can help it. Hard to look after a horse when a fight breaks out." Lyra admitted. "Once upon a time, I had a horse named Allie. Gorgeous horse, strong, tough, trusted her with my life more times than I could count."

"What happened to her?" Gared asked.

"Dragon," Lyra said, her voice taking on a somber tone that he wasn't used to hearing. "Stumbled across him in a storm and before I could take him down or explain, Allie was burning alive." She shook her head trying to ward off any lingering images. "Turns out horses scream just as loud as the rest of us."

"I see." Gared began to picture Lyra standing off with a fiery winged beast he had thought extinct and remembered how effortlessly she had killed the Whitehill soldiers. If she killed a dragon, single-handedly that would explain her skill when it came to simple soldiers.

"Since then, I figured it was better to walk from place to place," Lyra said as they approached Highpoint. "If I need to get somewhere fast, well you just saw what I do." Gared nodded as a smile graced Lyra's lips. "Of course, then I stumbled across a new horse who I just adore riding..."

"Hold there."A gate guard spotted them, he was dressed in the same armor as Ludd's soldiers back in Ironrath. He didn't seem to have the evil gleam in his eyes that most of those soldiers had so that was a positive as far as Lyra was concerned. Perhaps Ludd had brought the worst with him to the Forrester castle. "What's your business at Highpoint."

"I am Lyra," The Nord said with a bow of the head. She put a hand on Gared's shoulder. "This is Gared, we have news about your missing lord Ludd."

It wasn't too long before Lyra and Gared found themselves in yet another great hall. Though this one was darker and far more dismal than the one in Ironrath. the guards had confiscated Lyra's sword and pack as well as Gared's sword and now they sat waiting for whichever Whitehill would see them. In the meantime, Lyra studied the number of men in the room. She counted thirty men in all. Some with bows and quivers on their backs and others with swords at their sides. Most of them looking curiously at the pair with no seeming ill intent. Men simply doing their job who perhaps never served in the war down south and had stayed behind to guard Highpoint. She didn't like the idea of carving through them to exit should things not work out but if the option was forced upon her, she'd do it swiftly.

"Thank you for waiting," A female voice called out to them. Lyra and Gared turned to see a young blonde-haired girl a good few years older than Ethan and maybe three or four years older than Gared. "I am Gwyn Whitehill."

"Pleasure to meet you, lady Gwyn," Lyra replied, giving a courtesy bow. Gared did the same but chose to remain silent in front of the Whitehill. Gwyn shifted her gaze between the pair before taking a seat across the table from them.

"I'm told you have news about my father?"

Lyra nodded. "Yes, we do. Namely where he is."

"And where is that?" Gwyn asked.

"The Ironrath dungeon."

A panic appeared in Gwyn's eyes but she kept a composed posture as she put her hands on the table across from Lyra. "And why is that?"

"He barged into the great hall and threatened the Forrester family," Lyra replied. "His escort of men is dead and he is being held for his insults."

A flicker of rage appeared in Gwyn's voice and Lyra noticed the faces of the thirty or so men with her darken. "The Forresters murdered fourteen men because they were insulted?" Gwyn asked.

"_I_ murdered fourteen men because Ludd threatened to take one of their kids," Lyra replied, crossing her arms. "I gave them a choice. They chose to attack. You want to blame someone for their deaths, blame the man who put them in that situation."

Gwyn's rage didn't lessen as she pressed on. Lyra couldn't blame her, Gwyn loved her father like most children did. "Regardless, you are aware that by killing Whitehill men you've made yourself an enemy of this family?"

"And by extension, an enemy of the Boltons." Lyra nodded surprising Gwyn with all little she seemed to care. "I'm aware of it. That's why I've come to end the hostilities between you and the Forresters all together."

"By putting my father in a dungeon?"

An unnerving smile stretched across Lyra's face. "I didn't _just_ throw him in a dungeon," Lyra replied. "I snapped each of the fingers in his right hand along with his wrist, I shattered his right knee, broke his nose, and smashed his jaw to bits."

Gared eyed the woman who had carried him to Highpoint with a newfound fear with how detached she managed to say those words. Gwyn looked horrified at her words and the men around her could be seen moving their hands closer to their sheathed weapons.

"All of which," Lyra's smile faded. "Can be healed. If you acknowledge that furthering this conflict between your families is a waste of time and men."

Gwyn took a shaky breath, trying to adjust to the news she was receiving. "I do acknowledge it," Gwyn said. "But I'm in no position to halt what's been done and what my brother will do once he finds out."

"Gryff I take it?" Lyra asked. "What's he going to do?"

Gwyn put her hands together on the table. "When father didn't return, my brother rode off to Winterfell to gather the Whitehill men still under lord Bolton's command. He means to return and threaten to burn Ironrath to the ground."

"Rash thinking," Lyra said. "He couldn't know the Forresters had anything to do with his missing father."

"Gryff takes after our father," Gwyn replied. "He won't need much to burn the Forrester line to ash."

"I see." Lyra nodded. and leaned back into her chair. "Then it's a good thing I met you here and not your brother."

"Why is that?"

"Because you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders," Lyra replied, surprising the Whitehill. "You're wary about shedding blood needlessly. And I bet you counseled against going to Ironrath to threaten the Forresters, didn't you?"

"Perhaps," Gwyn replied. "But if I had known that you would brutalize my father because of insults..."

"Your father," Gared spoke for the first time. "sent men to my family's farm. And when they didn't get the chance to kill my father and rape my sister, he came to Ironrath and demanded compensation for them."

Lyra noted the rising anger in the squire with each word he spoke, as well as the growing frown on Gwyn's face as Gared recounted the tale of their meeting. "I didn't know about that," Gwyn said.

"It's done," Lyra replied, waving it off. "I'm here to now to try and end this conflict without further bloodshed."

"How?" Gwyn asked.

"An alliance," Lyra replied. "You and Ethan will agree to put the past behind you and unite to get through this time of chaos."

"And how would I secure such an alliance?" Gwyn asked.

"By marrying Asher," Lyra answered. "If he is agreeable."

A spark of hope flashed across Gwyn's face but it quickly faded. "Asher is exiled."

"Ethan has already sent for him to return," Lyra replied. "I've already discussed this with the Forresters and they are willing to agree to it."

"Just like that?" Gwyn asked. "Just marry and the feud between our families will end?"

"It's a goddamn start," Lyra said. "And I'd take it over wiping each other out. Especially when the North isn't secure for your family."

"What do you mean?" Gwyn asked.

"Your family serves the Boltons, the men who murdered the Starks," Lyra said. "If the other houses are angry at them, they'll be angry at you too.

Gared added his reason for agreeing."And with the Forresters allying with the Glenmores as well, you'd be better protected than on your own."

Lyra glared at the squire as Gwyn processed yet another piece of information. "Glenmores?" Gwyn asked. "How would they ally with the Forresters?"

"By marrying lord Ethan." Gared continued. "Regardless of what decision you make, the Forrester family will still have allies."

"Would you like to know how well Glenmore men fair against Bolton men?" Gwyn asked. A combative edge in her voice started coming through and Lyra knew this could throw negotiations off quickly. So she decided to explain why that was a bad idea by taking a page out of the books she had read the day before.

"Would you like me to explain what will happen if you don't agree?" Lyra asked, her voice taking on a detached tone. Gwyn turned back to her but didn't answer. "If you refuse the alliance, I will kill you, every man here, your father, your brother. Every Whitehill in existence. Then I will walk up to Winterfell and kill every Whitehill soldier under the Bolton's command along with every Bolton in existence." The great hall was quiet and her threat lingered in the room not unlike when she had done the same to Ludd. Lyra kept her glare on Gwyn and stretched out her hand towards the unlit fireplace.

A loud crackling noise could be heard through the entire hall as Whitehill men muttered and shifted around trying to find the source. Only Gwyn seemed to note that the sound was timed to a faint blue glow in Lyra's hand. Not a moment later, the glow intensified and the crackling along with it before a stream of lightning shot out from her hand and into the hearth. Setting ablaze the logs that were kept there and sending a loud crack of thunder through the entire castle. Once the rumble of thunder finally silenced and Lyra lowered her hand, there were noticeable sighs of relief from the Whitehill men and Gwyn herself. "Do you want to make me follow through on my threat?" Lyra asked.

"You have magic."Gwyn managed to work out, trying to keep calm.

It was a statement more than a question but Lyra nodded all the same. "Yes, and that was one of my weaker spells."

Gwyn kept the best neutral face she could but Lyra knew she was scared. Scared for herself, her men, her father, her brother, their home. As far as she knew the woman in front of her could kill them all. "Is peace all you want?"

"A lasting peace, preferably," Lyra answered. "And I think you're the woman who can bring it to life."

Silence swept back into the room and all eyes fell onto Gwyn Whitehill as they realized that the future of her house now rested on her shoulders. She took in a deep calming breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she replied. "If peace is what you want, I will do my best to provide it."

Lyra nodded. "Excellent. Upon Asher's return to Westeros, you two will hopefully pick up where you left off and that will seal the feud between the both of you. Ludd will remain with the Forresters until Ethan deems it necessary to return him," Lyra's head dipped to the side. "That does leave Gryff though, you say he's gone to collect the rest of his men?"

Gwyn nodded. "Yes, and he will not be happy about the deal we made."

"Then I'll head to Winterfell next," Lyra stood up from her chair along with Gared. "And do my best not to kill him."

"Thank you," Gwyn said. "But what about the Boltons?"

"If they're as terrible as I keep hearing," Lyra's face darkened. "Maybe they'll be joining the Starks sooner rather than later."

* * *

The guards of Highpoint did nothing to halt their exit and looked to be relieved when the pair were finally outside the castle and the gate fell behind them.

"I thought you said you weren't going to kill them all," Gared said.

"I wasn't," Lyra replied. "It's called a bluff, and in this case, it worked. No thanks to you."

"Me?" Gared asked. "I tried to help."

"You told them Ethan was going to marry Elaena." Lyra pointed out.

"Well isn't he?" Gared asked, not seeing the problem where Lyra saw it.

Lyra stopped and scratched her head in annoyance. "Why is everyone fine with a kid throwing his childhood away?"

"Ethan's close enough to manhood." Gared pointed out. "He was going to have to marry someone sooner or later."

"So why haven't you?" Lyra asked the squire.

"I've been fighting in a war," Gared defended, slightly flustered by the question. "Besides, I'm a pig farmer. Ethan's the lord of his house. Girls would rather go to him."

Lyra sighed at the squire as the continued down the road away from Highpoint. "Look, where I'm from, things like marriages and even arranged marriages don't happen until the participants are...older," Lyra said. "Seeing someone as young as Ethan, twelve for thirteen years old getting married, it's a strange sight. Even for me."

"Can it be stranger than fighting talking dragons?" Gared asked.

Lyra chuckled. " I guess that's the joys of different cultures. Some have talking dragons, others have child marriages, and either way, both are fucked."

Gared smiled at her reasoning and nodded himself. "Will we be heading back to Ironrath, lady Lyra?"

"I don't think we will," Lyra replied, looking up towards the sun. "There's still plenty of light out and Winterfell's within walking distance."

"Winterfell's at least a few days away." Gared pointed out.

"I'll get us there in a few hours," Lyra replied with a smile, kneeling back down. "Get on."

Gared's stomach turned at the idea but he obeyed and the pair dashed off yet again on the Kingsorad, this time northward and towards the new Wardens of the North.

* * *

**A/N: Tada! I know it's a little faster paced than the other chapters but hey, the Dragonborn has a goal now. Who's going to stop her? And yes I decided to stick Gared with Lyra so she has someone to talk to on her journeys between main GOT characters. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it as always and if you would like to leave a review to tell me if I did a good job or if I screwed up, I welcome it.**

**Until we meet again, gods guide you**.


	6. Chapter 6: Magic and Dragonborn

The few hours Lyra mentioned ended up being the rest of the day. And rather than run through the night and more than likely get lost, the pair settled on top of a hill a little way off the road just as the sun began to set over the horizon. After Gared readjusted himself to normal speed, he looked over to his traveling companion.

"I think Winterfell is still a few miles down the road." Gared pointed out using the last bit of light from the sun to try and pinpoint where they were.

"We'll be setting up out here tonight," Lyra replied, taking her pack and reaching inside it. "I want to check something,"

"Check what?" Gared asked.

"The night sky," Lyra said, pulling out a particular rolled up paper and grinning. "I'll set up camp."

"With what supplies?" Gared asked.

As if on cue, Lyra ran her hand over the paper and Gared felt his hairs stand on end as magic began to flow out into the space around them. There were several bright flashes of light before the magic ceased and Gared could only stare at the supplies that had materialized in front of him, An already pitched tent, several logs of dry wood for a fire, and what looked like some food wrapped up in some sort of basket.

"Go ahead and get a fire started." She told him.

Gared didn't seem to register the command. "Did all those..."

"They came out of the paper, yes." Lyra interrupted. " Honestly, I can't imagine how you'd react to some of the stuff at the College."

"College?" Gared asked.

"College of Winterhold," Lyra nodded. "It's a school where I learned everything I could about magic."

She gestured again to the firewood and Gared snapped out of his trance to start up a fire. "Could anyone go to the College?"

"I suppose." Lyra tilted her head as she grabbed the wrapped up basket. "It all depends on your will and work ethic."

"So, anyone could learn how to use magic?"

There was an excitement in his voice that made Lyra smile. "Theoretically." She nodded. "Some races are more suited it than others but on paper, yeah, anyone can learn it." She unwrapped the blanket around the basket and smiled. "Ah, now we're talking."

"Food?" Gared asked.

"Better," Lyra replied, reaching into the basket. She tossed an object to Gared. "Sweetrolls."

Gared looked at the icing topped, bread with a quizzical glare. "Sweetrolls?"

"Aye." Lyra nodded, grabbing one for herself. "A delicacy back in Skyrim. Taste better when they're freshly baked but still good." She took a bite of her treat and smiled. "Still good." She managed to repeat through her chewing.

That earned a chuckle from Gared and decided to take a bite as well. It had a rather simple flavor to it, which made sense for what seemed like a simple meal but the but for some reason, the taste lingered on his tongue and made him eager to take another bite. And another, and another. Before he even knew it, he had scarved it down.

"See?" Lyra asked, tossing another one to him. "Not as healthy as a fresh soup or roasted skeever but good all the same."

"Skeever?" Gared asked.

Lyra spread her arms out over her head. "Huge rats."

"Rats are healthy?" Gared asked.

"Not raw." Lyra snapped back. "More diseases on the bastards than a man can count. But when you kill one, skin and clean it, and roast it over an open fire for a good while, It's a decent meal."

"So, you eat rats..."

Lyra gave an uncomfortable shrug."It sounds worse than it is."

Gared let out a chuckle as he pictured Lyra roasting what to his mind looked like a rat the size of a wolf. "Eat them a lot?"

"You're getting snarky, Tuttle," Lyra replied, finishing another Sweetroll.

Gared raised an eyebrow. "You can dash across the wilderness at speeds I can't imagine. You can freeze men, burn them, and blast them with gods damned lightning. But I can't be a bit snarky?"

Lyra sighed. She could only imagine what must've been going through his head after all he witnessed. In a world with no magic to speak off, she was probably something straight out of a fairy tale. "Fair enough." She wrapped the basket of Sweetrolls back up and placed it inside her tent. "You brought up magic a minute ago, did you have an interest in it?"

"Not before I knew it was real, or what it can do," Gared answered. He finished his last Sweetroll and slid his hands against each other to rid them of any lingering crumbs. "What exactly _can't_ it do?"

Lyra tilted her head. "Now that's an interesting question." She peered into the fire that flickered on through the recently fallen darkness. "If you're clever enough and skilled enough, I suppose it can do about anything. Shield yourself from harm, summon weapons and creatures to fight by your side, change one thing into another. Conceptually, it's limitless."

The answer didn't satisfy Gared and he quickly moved into examples. "What about making you rich?"

Lyra laughed. Most people went to that question first. "I haven't mastered the art of pulling coins out of the air, but I can change iron into silver and from there to gold when I'm light on funds."

Gared's eyes went wide. "You can create gold?"

Lyra nodded. "When I need it," She could see Gared filling his brain with even more questions so she held up a hand to silence him. "Mind if I ask you something now?"

Gared looked disappointed by the change in topic but bowed his head. "Anything, my lady."

"You know I'm heading south once this business with the Whitehills ends, right?"

Gared bobbed his head. "I wasn't aware but I figured you'd head down at some point. Probably try to find your way home."

Lyra nodded. "Should I be expecting trouble on the way down there?"

Gared paused as he thought back to the road he'd traveled with his former lords when they were under the command of Robb Stark. "The roads were dangerous if you weren't in the army. Especially in the Riverlands. The Mountain's hopefully gone but the Brotherhood without Banners should still be around and the Freys will have Riverrun now."

"Who are the Freys?"

"A family that helped the Boltons kill the Starks," Gared explained. "It was at their home, the Twins, where the Red Wedding took place."

Lyra rubbed her head as she nodded. "Any particular reason they betrayed the Starks?"

"I'm not sure," Gared admitted. "I heard that the King in the North had promised he'd marry one of Walder's daughters. But that didn't happen, and Walder must've felt insulted." Gared's hands balled up. "Doesn't justify what he did though."

Lyra noticed his lingering rage as he spoke of the event that killed his lords and sighed. "I'm sorry that happened," Lyra said.

Gared shook his head. "It still doesn't feel right. Me, being alive and them not." He paused as a new thought entered his brain. "Could magic be used to bring someone back to life?"

Lyra let out a sigh. "Depends on what "back to life" means. If you mean as a simple ghost or spirit, sure. I've seen plenty of them. But if you're meaning actual resurrection, that's much more complicated.

"But not impossible?" Gared asked, his eyes filling with hope.

"As I said, conceptually, magic can do anything." Lyra reminded him. "However bringing the dead back to life is on the more questionable scale."

"How so?" Gared asked.

"Death is one of the few things in existence that's typically permanent," Lyra replied. "To even attempt to properly reverse it requires taking note of a great many factors. How long have they been dead? Is the soul still bound to their body or has it moved on from this plane? What's the condition of the body? If it's rotten or bloated then it's almost a waste of energy. Missing ligaments and appendages also factor in. If someone loses their head, can they be resurrected with just the head or the body? Can one be replaced with another?"

She paused to breathe before she continued.

"Then you get to the wants of the dead person or people. Did they die at peace? Do they want to return? If they do return, who's to say death hasn't changed them? Would they even be the same person they were when they died? And I haven't even gotten to the actual spells and preparations needed to even attempt a full-on resurrection properly or the deities you will inevitably piss off by doing so."

Gared's face fell with every word she said until all his excitement faded. "I see."

Lyra reached over and gave a firm pat on the shoulder. "Despite what you'll see by traveling with me, keep in mind I'm mortal just like everyone else." A somber tone flowed into her voice. "And there's nothing I'd like more than to bring back people I've lost. The fact that they're not here with me should tell you how difficult it is."

"Have you seen anyone come back?" Gared asked.

Lyra thought on the question before snickering. "Dragons," Lyra replied. "Most had been dead thousands of years back home but one of them had the power to bring its brothers back to life."

Gared's look of surprise quieted him for a moment before continuing. "What happened to it?"

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "That's a complicated question." Her voice lowered as she recalled the first son of Akatosh. "His name was Alduin, the World Eater. He was one of the most powerful dragons in history and had returned to Skyrim around the same time I first got there."

She briefly pondered what Gared's reaction would be to the Elder Scrolls and the revelation of time travel but she quickly decided that would only confuse the squire even more. "Though how he did that is another story altogether." She continued. "For the next five years, our paths crossed in and out of Skyrim. Our fates inevitably linked together by a prophecy to battle for the future of Nirn."

"Nirn?" Gared repeated.

"It's the name of the planet," Lyra explained.

"Planet?"

"The land and sea combined." Lyra continued. "Every continent and ocean are a part of it. "

Gared thought on her explanation but did not indicate that he grasped what she meant. Probably for the best too if her theory proved true. "Anyway, pay that bit of information no mind. The point is, things were destined between us to fight for the future of my home. Or at least, that's how I thought things were going to play out."

"You didn't fight the dragon?" Gared asked.

Lyra shook her head. "Not where it mattered. We skirmished a few times but I wasn't the one who finished the job."

"Who was?"

Lyra looked into the fire and Gared swore he could see a shadowy figure flash across her eyes. "Someone like me."

"So, other people fight dragons where you're from?" Gared asked.

"Those talented or lucky enough to survive them." Lyra nodded. "I'm sort of a special case where I can take in the souls of those who fall to me. It allows me to access and master their magic quicker than most others. He and I have that in common."

"The man who killed Alduin?"

Lyra nodded, "From what I heard, it was quite the fight to. Two souls battling it out, shaking the fabric of reality, Sky shattering, raining fireballs, heroes from ancient past helping him save the day. I'm sure it was a sight to behold" She looked back to the squire and laughed at the childish face of wonder he had plastered on him. If he hoped to get any sleep at all tonight, she figured she'd stop here. "In any case, we've given those miserable bastards enough attention. It's time we get some rest. Tomorrow we take care of the Whitehills for good."

Gared's disappointment was apparent but he nodded all the same as the reality of their situation came flooding back to him. "Understood, my lady. But what about the Boltons?" He asked.

Lyra thought for a moment. "We'll see." She said.

Gared nodded and began settling down and taking the time to reflect on all he had learned from the woman as she leaned back from the fire and looked up to the sky. Specifically, it's one moon and unrecognizable stars. She soon let out another chuckle. Her theory was correct. "Well, looks like I'm not in Nirn anymore."

Gared looked over to her and noticed her curious smile. "What do you mean?"

"Your moon," Lyra replied.

"What about it?"

"Looks like you only have one."

The next morning, they were back on the road and by noon they could see Winterfell in the distance as well as a town further down the road that led to it. Even from this distance, Lyra could tell this was a much bigger castle than either Ironrath or Highpoint. It made sense, the Starks had been the high-lords of this land so of course they' have the biggest castle. The castle itself wasn't what concerned her though. It was the men who held it. She had no real number for how many Bolton could fit into the castle. A few hundred? A thousand? Two Thousand? Certainly no more than three. Unless there was a massive underground network beneath. If so, then...

She shook her head. Thinking like that wasn't going to help her right now. She turned to Gared. "How do you want to play this?"

"Play this?"

She sighed. Did no one understand the phrase in this world? "Look, let's be optimistic and say the Boltons only have a few hundred men in the castle. Should I just walk up and tell the Whitehills to get out here? Should I use a more physical approach? What do you think?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Lyra crossed her arms. "I don't know, maybe it's because you served under the Starks with them."

"A bunch of people served the Starks in the war," Gared replied. "We didn't all gather together at feasts. Especially not squires and high-lords."

Lyra bit her lip. It was a fair point. "Okay. How much do you know about Winterfell, then?"

"It's the home of the Starks. That's about all I know." Gared shook his head. "Why are you even asking this? Can't you just summon down some lightning and kill them?"

"If I wanted to bring down the entire castle," Lyra admitted. "But maybe there's a way for this whole thing to be solved without killing anyone. We're just looking for Gryff remember."

"But the Boltons betrayed the North!"

Gared seemed surprised by how much anger came out of him and Lyra sent him a calming glare. "Look, I'm not fond of traitors either. But keep your mind on the Whitehills and your family. The Boltons aren't the immediate threat."

She looked back to Winterfell and pondered a way to get inside. A thought came to her and she gave an unnerving smile to the young squire. "What are the odds they put a bounty on the one who killed their men at your farm?"

* * *

"Excuse me?"

The guard was caught off guard by the voice and looked down from the Winterfell battlements to the closed gate below. "What do you want?"

"I'm here to collect a bounty," Lyra told him, tapping Gared's shoulder.

An annoying smirk appeared on the guard's face. "You?"

"Is there someone else here?" Lyra asked back. "This man killed Whitehill and Bolton men. I was told there'd be a reward for his head."

"How did a woman catch him?" The guard asked.

"Magic," Lyra yelled back, causing the guard to chuckle. "Look, I was told I could give him to either the Boltons or the Whitehills. If it's only the Whitehills that want him, I'll be on my way." She started to turn around but the guard stopped her.

"Go on inside," The guard huffed. A Whitehill will see you in the great hall."

"Not the Boltons?"

"Lord Bolton and Ramsay Snow are busy ridding the North of the Ironborn." The guard replied as the gate opened. Lyra smirked and she gave a light push to Gared to get him moving. This was going to be easier than she thought.

As the gate closed behind them, Lyra shifted the gaze to every guard she could find. Several archers on the battlements, half a dozen men standing by the stables, another half dozen by the forge, and all of them eyed her and her captive with curiosity and humor. She darted to what she hoped would be the great hall to avoid any immediate clashes, keeping her hand on his shoulder to keep him calm.

Winterfell's great hall matched the rest of the castle in being larger than Highpoint's or Ironrath's but there was a somber feel to this one that dwarfed even Highpoint's. There were no lit torches, no fire lit in the hearth, there weren't even any guards or servants scuttling around. It was just an empty room with a large empty table in the middle, brightened only by the little bit of sunlight that cracked through the windows and painted everything in a shade dismal shade of blue. "The Starks weren't all that decorative, were they?" Lyra asked Gared.

"The Starks took ruling seriously," Gared replied. "They didn't want to mask life's hardships with niceties and Winterfell reflects that."

"Still though, this is just sad," Lyra said, sitting him down in an empty chair and moving around. "By all means, be serious when you have to be but this place just feels miserable."

"If they weren't all dead, maybe you could tell them that."

Lyra sent a glare to the squire but it didn't last. A new figure barged into the hall with three men at his back. "What other explanations could there be?" A young, brash voice yelled to this men.

"My lord, Ironrath is a good few days away. Lord Ludd could on his way back to Winterfell right now." One of his men told him.

"The Forresters shouldn't have taken up so much of his time, then." The young voice grumbled. "My father was handpicked by Lord Bolton to watch over Winterfell while he went to deal with the Ironborn at Moat Cailin.T hey need to learn their place and bringing our men there would do just that." The voice came from a blonde young man with an unfortunate scrunched face that reminded Lyra of a skeever. He looked at the two other occupants in the hall. "Who are you?" He asked.

"Don't mind us," Lyra said. "Just waiting to talk to a Whitehill."

"I am a Whitehill." The man replied. "Gryff Whitehill, son of Ludd Whitehill."

"Excellent," Lyra replied, bowing her head. "I come bearing news of your father."

"What news?"

"He's currently sitting in an Ironrath dungeon with several broken bones after threatening the lives of Ethan Forrester and his family," Lyra replied, sitting down in a chair a few feet away from Gared and putting her feet on the table. "And if you want to see him alive again, you will do exactly as I say."

* * *

At the first cracks of the sun over the ocean, Xerxes walked out of his hut and into the waves. The air was a bit colder than usual but not enough to dampen his mood any more than waking up had. He had been in the middle of the nicest dream he'd had in ages. Talking to a bunch of beautiful women of every race, in a castle of his own making tucked in between mountains too far away for anyone or anything to bother him again. It was all he ever wanted in a dream. Women and solitude. Maybe some food here and there but it wasn't on his list of priorities when it came to fantasies.

The waves washed over him and he began swimming out to sea, searching for his breakfast. He blinked at the water's inherent saltiness and quietly groaned as his eyes adjusted. Once they did, and the water became as clear as the summer sky and Xerxes used his tail to increase his speed. He spotted a small school of fish not too far off in the distance and quickly swam towards it. He grabbed the spear from behind his back and took to stabbing each of them until all were skewered. Six or seven in total. More than enough for a good breakfast.

Xerxes began to swim back to the beach when he caught glimpse of a large shadow out of the corner of his eye. It appeared he'd taken the meal of another creature, and he wasn't too happy about it. As the shadow shot towards him, it became bigger and took on the shape, skin, and teeth of a very pissed off shark. Twice the size of Xerxes himself and armed with plenty of sharpened teeth. Xerxes looked down at his spear. The skewered fish had taken up a lot of room so he'd have to be precise.

He stepped back onto the beach, his spear full of fish in one hand and the tail of the shark in his other, heaving the dead beast onto the land and setting it a few feet away from his hut. Clouds now covered the morning sun but it didn't look like the type to bring rain so Xerxes set to work starting a fire. He gathered a few sticks of wood from his hut and piled them onto the beach. With a word, the wood was set ablaze. "YOL"

He took the fish off his spear and impaled them through a couple of sharp sticks before roasting them. He knew he'd have to make the fire bigger for when he cooked the shark but he'd deal with that after he had some food in his stomach. When one particular fish was seared to its limit, He pulled away from the flames.

As he opened his jaws to bite down, a scream reached his ears. "Ignore it," he thought. He bit into the fish as another scream followed. It was the same one, a young girl by the sound of it. Another scream followed that one. "Ignore it," He told himself out loud. "It's not your business, don't waste the time. They can't understand you, anyway." No sound followed the last scream and Xerxes let out a thankful sigh. Before he could take another bite, another scream blared into his ears. This one much louder and more pained than the ones before. Xerxes growled and looked towards the direction of the scream, out across the beach and towards the cliffs where the screams seemed to originate.

Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't anyone else be the hero for a change? It wasn't hard so why did it always seem like wherever he went, it always came down to him to get involved? He'd have to figure it out one day after he'd taken care of whatever was going on in those cliffs. He pulled the fish off his spear and grabbed some clothes from his hut.

The screams died down as he got closer to the point of origin and when he finally got up to the road through the cliffs quickly figured out why. He was right about them being from a girl, but she was even younger than he had thought, probably around six or seven. Her feet were nailed to the bottom end of a post, while the rest of her body bound to it by rope. Except for her hands, one was nailed into her chest a few inches below her collared neck while the other was nailed to the top half of the post, pointing out towards the road away from his beach. The poor girl had passed out from the pain.

Xerxes' blood-red eyes glared at the three men below her. Muttering to themselves in their gibberish language and proudly standing in front of their atrocity gawking at it as if it were work of art.

With everything going red, Xerxes started towards the men. They turned to see who was making the footsteps and their eyes went wide when they saw him and their voices speaking nonsense filled with fear. It was the same reaction he'd gotten from everyone else in this land. It was as if he were a monster straight out of a nightmare rather than an Argonian. But in this instance, he'd prove their fears right. They drew their swords and their voices grew louder as they pointed them at him, shouting curses, threats, and whatever else they could at Xerxes to scare him off none worked. And when the scaled monster finally got within striking distance, one of the men swung.

Xerxes sidestepped his strike and quickly opened the man's throat with his spear. The other men tried to avenge their comrade but Xerxes grabbed the deadman's sword out of his hand and disarmed both of them. As their weapons hit the ground, Xerxes whipped his tail across one man's legs, knocking him to the ground while slashing at the stomach of the other man, spilling his guts onto the road. The man who was knocked down reached for his sword only for it to be knocked away with a kick from the monster. A yell burst from the man when Xerxes embedded his dead friend's sword into his ankle effectively pinning him to the ground.

Xerxes looked around to make sure no more friends of theirs were nearby. Seeing only three white horses, He moved back towards the girl. He reached up to feel her neck. Her heart was still beating, he could work with that. He tore the nails from her body and slashed the bindings that held her to the post. The collar and what remained of her dress came with her as Xerxes carried her away from the post.

She was so light as if she hadn't eaten in days. Her breaths were weak but there was a stubbornness to them that made him smile. He had a feeling the girl was a tough one, and that only increased her odds for survival. The grunts of pain from the man who had done this to her filled his ears and caused him to look back at the post. With some adjustments, a man could be made to fit onto it.

By noon the girl was lying on a makeshift bed Xerxes had been using for himself and was using his cloak was a blanket to keep her warm. Her wounds were serious but there weren't immediately life-threatening, some clean wrappings for her wounds and a few herbs he had stored away would help her along. Either the men who had done this to her were terrible at their job, or more likely, the punishment they had inflicted was not meant to provide a swift end. So Xerxes didn't feel too guilty about the screams he heard in the distance now.

He pulled her collar off and looked at it. The design was simple, leather with small pieces of metal embedded in it. As to what it meant, he'd have to ask someone who knew this land and could speak to him. He looked back at the girl and wondered if she would be the first one to talk to him. He chuckled at the turnaround of luck that would be.

Was such an action common in this land? Binding a girl to a post, nailing her arms and feet, and leaving her to starve to death? If so, how many others had suffered such a fate? He shook his head. Thoughts like that had always gotten him into trouble. The truth was that the affairs of this land were none of his business. He'd only gotten involved because of the girl's proximity to his beach. He didn't need to worry about this happening to someone else. Another young girl or boy. Their feet getting nailed together. Their hands suffering the same fate. Being left to starve to death.

He growled and walked back out of his hut. Why did he feel guilty about things that weren't in his control? What was he supposed to do? Go out and fight everyone he saw until they got the message that hurting people was bad? How was he going to figure out their nonsense language? Who would help him figure out their nonsense language? And even if that happened, what was he supposed to do then? Go around and getting involved again? After everything that it had cost him?!

He felt his anger reach his limit and turned towards the ocean. "FUS RO DAH!"

Magic flooded out from his jaws and the crash of thunder shattered the peaceful air around the beach. A violent wind swept out into the sea blasting away the ocean water in front of him a good thirty feet away before they returned with renewed force, smashing into his legs and tail. When the water receded, Xerxes sat down in the damp sand. When he first ended up here, he'd taken it as early retirement.

A beach away from civilization, enough supplies to survive off for a good while, fish to survive on after that, no women but he could live without that as long as it brought him peace. He sighed and looked back to his hut and the girl inside it who had shattered said peace. She wouldn't be able to understand him and he wouldn't be able to understand her. But he hoped at the very least, she wouldn't run off screaming at the sight of her savior. He lied down on the sand and smiled as a new thought came to him. But if she did, maybe he could take that as a sign not to get involved further.

He knew he wouldn't, but it was nice to think about.

* * *

Daenerys's ears perked at the sound of thunder. It wasn't often you heard thunder on a clear day, or ever, in her experience. So this was an oddity. The startled faces on Jorah, Barristan, and Missandei made it clear she wasn't the only one who thought so. She looked into the blue sky cloudless sky. "Should I be concerned about thunder without lightning?"

"It would be the smart move, your grace." Barristan agreed, his eyes darted all over the cliffs that encompassed the road to Mereen looking for any possible explanation. "This is a first for me, as well.'

"A rockslide perhaps?" Jorah asked, already knowing that wasn't the answer.

"I wasn't aware moving rocks made thunder," Missandei replied.

"They don't," Daenerys told her. She looked out at the road to Mereen and felt a strange chill hit her. As if a stray wind from some far off mountain had found its way to her and her army. She looked back towards the front row of the eight thousand Unsullied behind her. Each stood as stoic as usual but she could see goosebumps on their skin at the surprise blast of cold. Missandei rubbed her arms and Barristan even looked mildly annoyed. The only one of her group who seemed to enjoy the surprise was Jorah who smiled as if he had just met an old friend.

"You seem comfortable at least," Daenerys said.

"Apologies, Khaleesi." Jorah bowed his head. "I was reminded of home."

She smiled at her friend's guilty face. "You don't need to apologize for being nostalgic."

Jorah nodded and before he could speak again, the screeches of three young dragons were heard flying overhead. Daenerys could usually look up and see one of her children send her a glance from above but this time, their gazes were fixed on something in the distance and the three of them flew further and further ahead.

"Something's caught their attention," Daenerys said, her lips grew a curious curl. "Shall we go see what?"

No objection came from her company and soon their march was back on. Meereen was still some days away and now something had caught the attention of her children. Daenerys could spend a little time and be curious for a moment. After all, how interesting could it be?

* * *

**A/N: That's right, one Dragonborn on each continent. Should make things a little more interesting going forward. Anyway, what did you guys think? Good? Bad? Leave a review and let me know.**

**Until we meet again, gods guide you**.


	7. Chapter 7: Unexpected Conversations

The rest of the day went by rather normally. The girl Xerxes had rescued was resting well but the wounds she had suffered from the nails looked to be infected. It was an expected outcome and she would more than likely die without the use of magic. Xerxes took in a few breaths, trying to feel out how little magic he had left in him. He'd never been too prominent in the mystical arts but only a fool didn't take advantage of a tool he was given. He knew basics around fire, frost, and conjuring but his specialty was restoration. Healing oneself had been a lesson he'd learned early in life and he made sure that school of magic is where he'd spend most of his time.

So he used that skill to quicken the girl's recovery. Eradicating the infection and mending some of the nerve damage inflicted on her body. He knew it was foolish. He only had a finite amount of mortal magic to spare and with no magical regeneration possible in this land, he knew he should strive to save what little magic he had left after the mess in Apocrypha.

He smiled out into the evening sea. Did the word "mess" really do it justice? There had to be a better word for it. Debacle? War? Disaster? Catastrophe? Apocalypse? The last one had the best ring to it. Apocalypse in Apocrypha. It had the makings of a good book title. Certainly better than likes of _T__he Lusty Argonian. _

Xerxes shook his head. Why was he even thinking about that? He had done everything he could to stop it, certainly more than what could've been asked for anyone else. He tore off a piece of shark and held it over the beach-side fire. Once it was singed to an appropriate level, he tore into it just as it would have done to him. He cleared his mind of banished Dragonborn and settled back into more modern thoughts. If the girl was going to stay asleep, then he'd sleep outside for the night. He sat himself down in the sand a few feet away from the fire.

She wasn't going to talk to him. He had to keep repeating that in his head, lest his hopes go up for finally speaking to someone. She was going to speak the exact same gibberish that everyone else spoke in this land and that's only if he got to hear it. It was still entirely possible that she would wake up, see him, scream, and try to run away. A few fishermen had suffered that very reaction when he first landed on this beach. If that were to happen to the girl, she'd more than likely try to escape. Making her rescue meaningless. What was he going to do then? Let her die this time as opposed to before?

He decided that was enough questions for one night and when the sun finally dipped over the sea, he closed his eyes.

The next day continued the trend. The girl slept and Xerxes continued about his business as he had done since he had arrived on this beach. Gather some food for the morning and set about eating it. He did remind himself to get some freshwater though. He'd saved up a good bit of water from his travels journeys to the wilderness but the girl had to drink if she wanted to get back to full strength so she'd been taking a good deal of it since yesterday. By late afternoon though, some visible progress was made.

The girl coughed and whimpered as the pain of the nails stayed with her when she tried to move. She struggled to open her eyes but she showed her strength once again when one cracked open. Her vision was probably hazy so Xerxes was sure she couldn't make out his image as he sat by her side. Her eyes were a dim hazel that reminded Xerxes of a young orphan back in Whiterun. What had been her name? Lucia? He gave the girl some water, which she gulped down gladly until the pouch was pulled away from her. "Rest up, girl," Xerxes muttered, knowing she couldn't understand him.

He felt something latch onto his other hand as he put the water pouch to the side. He looked down and saw her hand lightly cover his scaled one. The wound from the nail was visible and doubtless caused her pain but the girl moved her hand all the same. She muttered something in her strange language but Xerxes felt confidant she was glad not to be nailed to the post anymore. Her eye closed soon after and she fell back to sleep. He checked the rags he covered her wounds and noticed that there was no sign of infection. Another minor miracle for the girl. It seemed the few bits of Blue Dartwing and Ash Hopper Jelly he had in his packed away were working their magic, metaphorically speaking.

That reminded him, he needed to take proper stock of his belongings. He grabbed his leather pack from the hut. It had been the only thing that came with him to this land and as such was his last reminder of home. Damn shame too, he had never packed much into it. A few herbs and potions for healing and stamina, a pair of books he knew so well he could recite them by memory, his other pair of clothes that were useless in the warm weather of this land, and a large magical scroll. Quite possibly the most dangerous thing in this or any world. Just sitting there in his pack like it was a normal object to be carrying around. He laughed at the sight and closed his pack.

Later, right as Xerxes finished another piece of cooked shark for lunch, he walked back to his hut to check on the girl. She was still laying on his bed but the sound he made caused her to murmur and open her eyes. Xerxes took in a deep breath and prepared for a fuss should she start to scream in panic. When her eyes opened and she saw him, he could see fear set in her hazel eyes. Next would come the same panicked gibberish that came with seeing something like him in this land. Xerxes didn't let it get that far and threw a cooked fish onto her and left the hut. He hoped at the very least the girl would understand that she was to eat it. He wasn't going to feed it to her and she had to start using her hands again no matter the pain she was still feeling.

A few hours passed and Xerxes heard the girl stumble as she tried to stand up. There were grunts, unknown mutterings that Xerxes couldn't understand, and at one point a yell of frustration. But the girl was stubborn. Biting through the lingering pain of her wounds, she finally stood back to her feet. Only to fall back onto the bed.

Xerxes smiled at the sight. Her stubbornness was admirable but she would need time to fully heal before walking again, even with his help. She frowned down at her legs before looking back out towards him. There was still a fearful shadow in eyes but panic he had expected didn't show itself. Perhaps the gesture with the fish had worked. More than likely she was still terrified of him and just didn't show it but it was nice to think about.

More hours passed before the girl made it towards the exit of his hut. Her legs were wobbly but she looked determined to move out towards the beach and over to the fire where Xerxes sat by. One step at a time, she moved towards him. There was an obvious fear in her eyes but she kept moving all the same. Finally, she sat down a few feet away from him. Sending a fearful yet curious glare towards him that indicated she wanted food. "Hungry, girl?"

A string of nonsensical sounds answered his question. He pulled a cooked fish out of the fire and handed it to her. "Hot." He told her, knowing she wouldn't understand.

The girl reached for it but quickly let go when she felt it. Xerxes let out a laugh and repeated his word. "Hot."

The girl looked at him and then back to the fish that had thankfully avoided the sand and landed on a log. "H-Hot."

The smile from the Argonian grew so large that it was thankful the girl had turned her gaze, lest she finds it unnerving. Finally, someone said something he could understand. It meant absolutely nothing, as she just repeated it but it was nice to hear all the same.

The rest of the day was uneventful save for one particular moment that evening. The sun was beginning its descent over the waves and Xerxes was swimming back in with a few speared fish for supper. The girl still sat over by the fire awaiting her food like a loyal pet, when a sudden rush of energy hit his spirit like a surprise wave. His magic was returning to him.

He looked around trying to find a reason for it when a new sound reached his ears. A kind of screech or snarl that confused the girl as her eyes darted around the beach for its origin. Xerxes knew better. That sound and its otherworldly echo belonged to a creature that was beyond mortal, it would only come from one place. He looked upwards and saw three figures soaring high in the air above them. They were smaller in comparison to the creatures he had seen back home but there was no mistaking the sounds they made or the shadow that came on the ground below them.

"Dragons." Xerxes smiled up at the creatures. He put a hand on the girl to try and calm her. She couldn't know it but he hoped the action would somehow let her know she was actually with the safest company alive. It seemed to work and the girl's eyes settled on the creatures in the air as well. Looking at them with a fearful curiosity that children often had when they saw something new. Two of the creatures flew over to the day's old shark carcass and set it ablaze while the biggest of the three seemed more interested in him.

Xerxes's smile didn't dim as the creature began to fly lower and lower. Circling him and the girl with what Xerxes hoped was curiosity rather than malice. With the dragons back home, one could never tell which one it was until they spoke and he figured the same would be true here.

"Drem yo lok," Xerxes called out to the dragon. "Fos los dreh het?"

No response came from the dragon as it continued to descend, concerning Xerxes. His grip on the girl's shoulder tightened and she looked at him. He tilted his head back towards the hut, hoping she understood what he meant. Whether she did or didn't, she had no desire to stay in the dragon's gaze and she clumsily moved back inside. With her out of the way, Xerxes stiffened his body in preparation for a fight. "Fos los hin fann?" He called up to the dragon, louder than before. "Zu'u los Xerxes. Zu'u seik hi nid aax."

Still no reply from the creature. Now that was strange. Whether they meant to harm or not, the dragons back home would've responded by now. Their pride demanded they did so. This one was quiet save for the occasional snarl as it finally ceased circling and floated directly in front of Xerxes. It was by no means small, close to the size of a young horse, but if it was looking to threaten the Argonian he was wasn't going to try harder. The dragon and he locked eyes as it let out another snarl, one that was lower than the ones before. A clear sign of a challenge.

So much for talking. Xerxes stood up and took a step towards the creature. He could feel the heat from radiating from the creature's jaws and knew he was ready to fight. Fortunately, Xerxes was not.

"FUS" The air under the dragon's wings turned against him and the sudden blast of wind caused him to lose the rhythm of his flight. Xerxes chuckled at the panicked spark in its eye as he dropped into the sea. The beast flailed and screamed at the ocean's current as it tried to fly back into the air but the water's hold on the beast was tight. Either the creature lacked the patience to adapt to the water's grip or more likely, it was incapable of swimming.

With a sigh, Xerxes waded out into the waves and toward the floundering creature. He took the panicked beast by the neck and started pulling him back towards the shore. Not without a fight, of course, the beast took extreme issue with being handled in such a way and smacked the Argonian with its wing and tail every chance it got. Xerxes groaned at the ache his body would feel later and when he finally got back to land, he released his grip on the dragon. It screeched and coughed up some seawater it had swallowed in it's flailing but otherwise, he seemed unharmed.

"Don't get snippy with me." Xerxes scolded. The grounded beast glared at him and Xerxes noticed the other dragons fly over as well, flanking the bigger dragon and letting out combined snarls of aggression at the Argonian. Still no words.

Could anything in this gods-forsaken land speak in a way he could understand?

"You bastards should be thanking me," Xerxes told the dragons. "If you had met anyone else like me, they'd had you for a snack by now."

For some reason, the sounds of the dragons died down at his words earning a chuckle from Xerxes. "Well, glad you concede the point."

The biggest of the trio started moving towards him. He was a bit more intimidating when being looked upon while sitting down but the challenging snarls he had once made had vanished. Replaced with low rumblings that sounded almost curious. Xerxes held out a hand to touch the creature's scales but the beast recoiled at the action. That made sense. Can't get too friendly with a creature you just met. Especially when he blasted you out of the air.

* * *

Lyra figured putting her feet on the table would draw a reaction from the boy. But the sight of his face twisting with rage was as comical as his father's.

Gryff marched forward. "Are you some kind of fool?"

"It's not my chosen trade, but I've been known to have a few jokes," Lyra replied with a smirk. "Mind you, I can't think of a better one than you commanding Winterfell."

That drew another reaction. Gryff's sword flew out of his sheath along with his guards and all found themselves pointed at her throat. "You dare to insult me?" Gryff asked, gritting his teeth.

Lyra eyed the blades and took a breath. "ZUN"

Their swords flew out of their hands and smashed into the wall on the other end of the great hall much to their shock, Gared's awe, and Lyra's amusement. "Now gentlemen, there's no need for violence." She clapped once to peel their eyes away from their weapons and back to her. "I'm hoping for a peaceful solution to all this."

Gryff's face mimicked that of his father as did the men who were by his side. Shock, anger, denial, they all hung over his face like a dark cloud. "How did you...?" His voice trailed off.

"None of your concern," Lyra answered. "All you need to know is that is only a fraction of what I'm capable of." She gestured to the squire at her side. "Gared can attest to what I did to your father and his men as well as what I did at Highpoint."

A new emotion became visible on Gryff's face. One that mimicked his sister's and gave Lyra hope for a nonviolent outcome. "What have you done to my sister?"

Lyra shrugged. "I made it clear to Gwyn that it would be unwise to continue the hostilities between your family and the Forresters. Just as I've now done to you." She said. "Rest assured, she's safe."

Gryff's mind began to turn and he looked back towards his men. Perhaps he truly grasped the situation he was in. Or maybe he was about to order his men to call for back up. She couldn't be sure until he spoke.

"Leave us." He ordered.

The Whitehill soldiers scurried out of the room like frightened mice, eliciting a chuckle from Gared. Gryff sent a glare towards the squire that silenced him before looking back at the Nord. "You have magic."

"A good deal of it," Lyra said. "Enough to bring you and your men to heel, and reduce your family line to ash."

Gryff let out a shaky breath and fell onto a seat opposite from Lyra. "What have you done to my father?"

"Kept him alive," Lyra answered. "At lord Ethan Forrester's orders."

Gryff's eyes widened. "The Forresters ordered you to let him live?"

Lyra nodded, putting her feet back down on the floor. "I was serious about ending the feud between you two. One that seems mired in stupidity to an outsider like me."

"The Forresters are thieves," Gryff growled out. "They stole our land and mock us to this day."

"When did they steal your land?"

Gryff hesitated at the question."What?"

"When did they steal your land?" Lyra repeated. "Do you have a date? Or documental proof?"

Gared could almost hear Gryff's teeth grate. "No," Gryff said.

As she thought. "And who mocks the Whitehill name?" Lyra asked.

"Gregor Forrester mocked my father incessantly," Gryff answered. "The Forresters always think they're better than us."

"In what way?" Lyra asked."Yours is a noble family, just as much as the Forresters'. You command more men then the Forresters do. Why would they feel superior?"

"Their ironwood forest," Gryff said.

"How do trees make them better than you?" Lyra asked.

"It doesn't."

Lyra paused, giving Gryff the chance to think on his own words.

"But, they've always thought they were." He defended.

"In what way?" Lyra asked. "What have _you_ witnessed to make you think they look down on your family?"

Gryff opened his mouth to unleash a long list of incidents that proved his points. How the Forresters mocked his father, how they stole Whitehill land, how they constantly turned their nose down towards him and his family. But no such list came. Just a cold silence that echoed off the walls of Winterfell.

"Did you ever think that maybe the Forresters didn't actually look down on you or your family?" Lyra asked the Whitehill. "Did you ever wonder if your hatred for their family is irrational?"

"But they have my father!"

"They have your father, only because he sent men to harass their vassals" Lyra pointed to Gared. "He came home from the war just in time to see his family about to be killed and raped. What did he do to the Whitehills to earn such an attack?"

Gryff's eyes studied the squire in question. "Are you a Forrester soldier?"

"I was a pig farmer," Gared replied. "My family makes bacon."

The rather simple response compounded Gryff's own questioning thoughts. "But...my father..."

"Your father hates the Forresters," Lyra replied. "Why? I don't know. But he sought out a provocation with them. He wants them gone or so far under his boot that they'll never see the light of day." She thought back to the unpleasant man she'd beaten and sighed. "I can't speak to the late Gregor," Lyra admitted. "But your father is an individual worthy of mocking."

A flicker of rage appeared in Gryff's eyes. "My father is a great man."

"To you, I'm sure." Lyra nodded. "But I watched him threaten an innocent family for the simple act of protecting themselves. Does that sound like a great man?"

Gryff shook his head, trying to wave off any questionable thoughts. "The Forresters-"

"Elyssa, Ethan, Talia, and Ryon."

Gryff tilted his head at the woman. "What are you..."

"Those are the Forresters living in Ironrath now," Lyra clarified. "Stop thinking of them as this ominous collective out for your family's blood and listen to me." Lyra leaned against the table. "Elyssa's a grieving widow who lost her firstborn son. Ethan's a bright kid who recently lost his father and brother to betrayal. He's hopeful and has never had a bad word to say about the Whitehills since I've met him. And he's the one who stopped me from killing your father. Talia's a polite girl who tries her best to look after what's left of her family, and Ryon is a goddamn toddler. He wouldn't be able to tell you what a Whitehill is or why it's terrible."

Lyra could see the young man start to consider her words and she continued. "All they want is to not lose any more family. They could care less about making you feel inferior.

Gryff looked away from the Nord. "How do you know what they think?"

"I talked to them," Lyra said. "Just like I'm talking to you."

"You threatened me." He reminded her.

"Because otherwise, you wouldn't have listened to me or you would've tried to kill me," Lyra replied. "Besides, that's a while back now, Gryff." She said, giving a small smile. "Focus on the future."

Gryff let out a cold chuckle. "And what sort of future does Ethan Forrester want?"

"An alliance."

Suprise hit his face like a wet fur. "What?" Gryff asked.

"The families of Forrester and Whitehill will be bound by blood," Lyra said. "A good starting point to a more promising future."

"How?" Gryff asked.

"Your sister will marry Asher," Lyra said.

"The exile?!" Rage returned Gryff's voice. "My sister is far too good for the likes of him."

"She already agreed to it." Lyra pointed out.

Gryff's new feeling of surprise was short-lived. "You spoke with her?"

"When I went to Highpoint, yes," Lyra admitted. "She's much cooler tempered than her father."

Gryff went silent at her statement. And while Lyra kept her eyes on the Whitehill, Gared began to notice men moving into the great hall, armed with bows, arrows, and swords. He gestured to Lyral but her gaze remained unmoved.

"You know, the impression I had of you wasn't good," Lyra admitted. "Coming in here, I was expecting to have to handle you the same way I handled your father. Break a few bones, humiliate you, kill some men, deal you the same type of punishment you wanted to be dealt towards the Forrester family.

Gryff returned her gaze as his men drew closer to him but otherwise remained silent.

"But you're better than your father." She added. "You have his temper, but there's more to you than blind rage. I can see it." Lyra stood up from her chair. "If you can hold back your anger and learn to use your head, you might just turn out to be a good leader." She gripped the sword at her side and raised her voice so that every Whitehill soldier could hear her. "Or you can make your father proud and damn your men to horrible deaths."

Gryff was shocked by her raised voice and stood up once she had finished. Her gaze was still solely focused on him and he now found it too frightening to return it. What would his father say to that? Not being able to meet the gaze of a woman? He'd disown Gryff on the spot if he were here to see this. But was she even a woman? The power she wielded wasn't human. He'd been disarmed with but a word and even now as she stood surrounded, she didn't seem fearful. She was ready for him to give the order to attack. What would become of him then? What of his family name? His sister, his father?

Gryff summoned some courage and met her gaze once more.

"Orders, sir?" One of his men asked. Gryff took in a few breaths before answering.

"Stand down."

The man seemed surprised. "But sir-"

"This woman wields magic, you idiot," Gryff told him. "She has powers that the North hasn't seen in centuries and I won't have her kill us for my father's failings."

Lyra smiled at his words. The Whitehill was saving face. "Glad to hear it." She said, releasing the grip she had on her sword. A wave of relief passed through the soldiers as they too lowered their weapons

"I have your word, my father will not be harmed any further?" Gryff asked.

"You do." Lyra bowed her head. "As long as you consent to the match that will unite your two families."

"And does the Whitehill family get from such a match?" Gryff asked.

Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Aside from peace? I'd assume the Glenmores would offer something."

Gryff's eyes widened yet again. "Glenmores?"

Lyra nodded. "Lady Elaena is now betrothed to lord Ethan or will be in the near future. By allying with the Forresters, that makes them your ally as well."

Gryff seemed happy with this information. An alliance with the Glenmores would be useful to his family. True enough he'd have to share them with the Forresters, but they still stood to gain from this alliance. Much more so than what they had now.

"I trust the Forresters are willing to discuss further benefits of the match between my sister and the exile?" Gryff asked.

Lyra wanted to say absolutely but she doubted Ethan or anyone in the Forrester family had expected such a welcomed outcome. "They will be willing to speak to you at a later date." She replied. "As of now, you need only send a message saying that you consent to the alliance." A frown flashed across her face as a new thought entered her head. "And what can your family offer the Forresters?"

On instinct, Gryff wanted to loudly proclaim "the honor of a Whitehill alliance" but he held his tongue for what might've been the first time in his life. Lyra noticed it too. Perhaps he had begun to enjoy thinking rather than yelling. "What does lord Ethan want?"

"Protection," Lyra answered. "They fear the Boltons mean them harm and an alliance with your family would be of great assistance in alleviating their fears."

Gryff scratched his chin, considering the information. "So they want to be seen as loyal to the new Wardens of the North?"

Lyra nodded. "What are your views on the Wardens if I may ask?"

"We're their bannermen," Gryff replied.

"I know your family's history with them," Lyra said. "But what do you think of them personally? Were you a fan of how they betrayed the Starks?"

"Robb Stark acted like an idiot and was on his way to losing the war," Gryff replied, almost too quickly. As if from memory of someone else saying those words rather than actual opinion. "The Boltons were wise in seeking peace with the Lannisters."

"In what way?"

"They're the new Wardens aren't they?" Gryff pointed out. "With the Stark girl married to Tyrion Lannister, they'll hold the North for a good long while."

Lyra conceded the point. "I'll quit while I'm ahead then. Come on Gared."

The squire did as ordered and the two moved through the wall of soldiers and back towards the exit. "A word of warning though," Lyra said at the exit. "If the Boltons are willing to betray their own lords to move up in position, what do you think they'd do to their own men when it suits them?"

Gryff didn't offer a response so Lyra continued out. "Just something to think about."

Not a moment after the gate of Winterfell closed behind them, Gared spoke. "That's it?"

Lyra nodded. "I think so."

Gared furrowed his brow."But, you didn't do anything to them."

"I talked to them and we came to an understanding," Lyra said. "It's the best you can hope for in negotiations."

"But there's no reason to think he'll keep the agreement after lord Ethan releases his father." Gared pointed out. "What's stopping him from killing the Forresters after that?"

"An alliance with the Glenmores," Lyra answered. "And if that doesn't work, I'll handle it." She sent a tired gaze to the squire. "Gared, at some point, you have to trust others to do as they say will."

"That type of thinking got the Starks and lords Gregor and Rodrik killed," Ethan replied. "I don't want that to happen to the rest of their family. And that risk will always be there with the Boltons around. "

"But the Starks aren't all gone," Lyra told him.

"What do you mean?" Gared asked.

"Didn't you hear Gryff?" She asked, smacking the back of Gared's head. "A Stark girl married into the Lannisters. The Dwemer, by the sound of it."

"Dwarf, you mean?" Gared asked, rubbing his head.

"Right, that can work in our favor." Lyra smiled. "Give us someone to put in charge if the time comes to deal with the Boltons."

"But the Lannisters are all the way in King's Landing." Gared pointed out.

Lyra nodded. "My next destination. We'll head back to Ironrath for some supplies and then we'll head south."

Gared's eyes widened at how perfectly this all fell into place for her. She was planning to head south anyway and found a way to work in helping the North while she was down there. "You're a strange woman, lady Lyra."

Lyra's laugh brought a smile to Gared's face. "Gared, If you think I'm strange, I can't imagine what you'd think of Tamriel." She bent down to let Gared onto her back. Not a moment later, the words of the dovah echoed through the air as they vanished down the road, away from Winterfell and back to more friendly lands.

* * *

**A/N: Well that's the chapter. Surprise, I also wanted to turn Gryff's character around. He seemed far too one dimensional to be in the Game of Thrones universe so hopefully, now there's a bit more to him than just "Forrester bad".**

**As for Xerxes, I know some of you probably didn't like the idea of having one more Dragonborn around but I think you'll like it down the line. Hopefully. Maybe. I don't know. I'm terrible when it comes to predicting your reactions.**

**Until we meet again, gods guide you.**


	8. Chapter 8: Heading South

The road back to Ironrath was proving uneventful for Lyra and Gared, and it only added to the optimistic feeling the former had. This whole business between the Forresters and Whitehills might've well built up into a bloody mess if she hadn't shown up, but since she had, she felt that she had done a decent job of persuading them to act against such an ending. The eldest Whitehill daughter had agreed to marry a Forrester son, the son of the patriarch of the Whitehill family wasn't out for their blood anymore and seemed to be willing for a closer alliance after thinking on the subject. It was a welcomed outcome. Now, all she had to do was hope they'd keep their words and become allies.

The young squire on her back didn't share her optimism and she'd be foolish to say she couldn't see why. His former lord had been killed by such hope. Still, she hoped he'd warm up to the idea of having fewer enemies in the world sooner rather than later.

A fresh gust of air smacked her face. "Wind's a bit colder today," Lyra said.

Gared scoffed from Lyra's back. "Well, winter is coming."

"It is?" Lyra asked.

"It's the words of House Stark," Gared said. "But it's also true. Summer ended close to a year ago."

Lyra was tempted to stop right in her tracks. "What do you mean, summer ended a year ago?"

"Just what I said," Gared replied. "Summer's over and winter is on the way."

"I know that. Why the phrase 'a year ago?'" Lyra asked. "Don't you have summer once a year?"

Lyra sensed Gared shake his head. "Winters and Summers come in cycles and can last years." His voice took on a curious tone when he continued. "Is that different from where you're from?"

"Very much so," Lyra replied, her speed decreasing. "Winter and summer come in the same year back in Tamriel. Each one lasting only a few months and separated autumn and spring." She shuttered at the thought of one particular season lasting longer as was the case in this land. "So, what month is it?"

"You'd have to ask a Maester about that," Gared said, as his head began to hurt trying from the woman's questions.

"Fair enough," Lyra replied. "I guess I can't ask too much of a squire."

Lyra's legs finally came to a stop and Gared quickly got off her back. Judging by the reappearance of trees, they were somewhere in the Ironwood forest. "I say we'll be fine if we walk from here," Lyra said, rubbing her neck and taking her pack from Gared. "Not that you're no fun to heave around."

"Ha. Ha." Gared replied, more than happy to be back on his feet. It was true that moving at such a speed was a great time-saver, but staying on the back of someone was far from comfortable and he was ready to stretch his legs for a change. The pair's journey back to Ironrath continued unabated until finally the Forrester keep came into view. The smile on Gared's face at the sight made Lyra chuckle. It seemed that no matter the land, no one ever tired of seeing home.

As the gate opened up for them, Lyra heard the voice of a guard call out to them, "Gared Tuttle, Lord Ethan is waiting in the Lord's chambers for you. "

"Did something big happen while we were gone?" Lyra asked.

"Lord Rodrik survived Riverrun." The guard answered. "He's wounded and currently being tended too in the lord's chamber."

Gared's eyes darted towards the keep and the only thing stopping him from charging off towards it was a firm hand from Lyra. "How'd he get here?" She asked.

"Carted in with the previous lord Gregor and a bunch of other dead men." The guard answered. "Ser Royland nearly chased the man who was carting it off when lord Rodrik pulled himself off the cart."

Lyra took off her pack and began rummaging through it. "How serious are his wounds?"

"Bad." The guard admitted. "But Forresters are hard to kill. Maybe he can pull through it with the Maester looking after him."

Lyra nodded at the information before pulling out a small crimson vial liquid. "Give this to Rodrik if things look really bad." She said to Gared. "If anyone tries to stop you, remind them of how I'm been trying to save your family since I got here."

Gared nodded and took off to the lord's chamber so fast Lyra briefly wondered if he had suddenly become Dragonborn. It wouldn't be the most shocking thing to happen recently, but her ponderings faded with a chuckle. She looked back towards the guard and bowed her head. "If anyone needs me, tell them I'll be in my room. I've had enough family drama for a few hours." Lyra then made her way to the keep.

The innards of Ironwrath were as quiet as she had expected, their surviving lord returning to them must've seemed like a miracle and anyone of note in the keep would surround his room trying to see him. She could practically picture all of the Forrester family huddled around his bed, either embracing him to the point of near suffocation if he was healing or if he was still injured, praying for his recovery. Either way, she didn't expect to see anyone of them tonight. She didn't even expect Gared to join her on her way south now that his lord had returned from the grave. She did wonder if she should stop by herself and make sure he's not too terribly injured but she trusted Gared would come running to her if he thought things would take a turn for the worse.

It was for the best. The potion she had taken when the Tuttles found her was not a large one, and since her magic still didn't want to return to her naturally, she had to be careful about how she used it. And with a healing potion gone thanks to her sappy heart, she needed to start finding a way to craft more if she wanted to avoid running out of magic. Alchemy was the natural solution but that was never her area of expertise. Why would she, since potions could simply be bought from a shopkeeper or wandering merchant in Tamriel?

"I guess I'll have to start studying plants now." Lyra sighed to herself on her bed. "Then again, a new world probably means new plants so gods know if I even can learn to make them." Her eyes bore into the ceiling above her as a part of her grew annoyed at her hesitation. Why was she even still here? She could've just started back onto the road and headed south just like she said she said was going to do. Get to King's Landing, talk to the Lannisters, find a way home. That's what her priorities should be.

Another part of her though, the one that had always gotten her into trouble, told her she should enjoy the land she found herself in. Take in the sights that no other modern Tamrielean has ever seen. Maybe no other Tamrielean in history if she was wrong about the Dwemer Lannister. Then again, it was possible that she wasn't the only one in this world. After all, If she could survive Apocrypha it stood to reason that he could as well.

A knock on her door paused her thinking. She told whoever it was to come in and was greeted with the sight of a smiling young Ethan.

"Good news?"

Ethan nodded. "The Maester thinks Rodrik will pull through. He's resting now."

Lyra beckoned him further inside and the pair sat down at the table. "How close was it?"

"It looked bad," Ethan admitted. "He was weak and his body was mangled, the Maester said his wounds would've killed any other man."

"Tough bastard, eh?" Lyra smirked.

Gared frowned and his voice turned serious. "He's not."

Lyra blinked. "What?"

"You just called him a bastard." Ethan pointed out, not a fan of the word.

Lyra sighed. "It was a compliment."

"How?" Ethan asked. "Bastards aren't a good thing."

"Forget it," Lyra waved off. "Good for Rodrik, all the same." She thought back to Gared and the vial she'd given him. "Did Gared give Rodrik anything? A drink?"

Ethan nodded. "The Maester said he'd be fine but Gared gave it to Rodrik just in case. What was it?"

"Just a little something from back home for wounds," Lyra admitted. "It should help him recover quicker."

Ethan's smile returned and he bowed his head. "You're very kind."

Lyra smirked. "I try to be. The world doesn't need any help being horrible."

A brief silence lingered between the two before Ethan spoke again. "Will you be leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I've lingered here long enough," Lyra said. "And while I've enjoyed playing peacemaker, I have problems of my own that I need to take care of."

Ethan frowned but nodded at her answer. "I'm sad to see you go but house Forrester won't forget what you've done for us. I'll make sure of it."

Lyra smiled at the boy's determined tone."How's it going to work for you now? Are you still going to be lord or..."

Ethan shook his head and Lyra could feel the family weights lifting from his shoulders. "Rodrik will take over. He's stronger and much more like Father than I ever was. He and Elaena should be a better match anyway."

Lyra tapped his shoulder from across the table. "Don't sell yourself, short kid, something tells me you'll find a girl one day."

Ethan considered her words before deciding to move on. "How did things go with the Whitehills?" Ethan asked.

"Well, I'm not sure what Rodrik being alive is going to do," Lyra replied." But at the moment, Gryff and Gwyn have agreed to the marriage between her and Asher, should he find his way home."

The surprise in Ethan's voice was palpable. "Really?"

"Between you and me, Gwyn's the more sensible one but Gryff has some potential if he can learn to think for himself." Lyra thought to the man she had beaten at Ironrath just days ago. "I'd be wary about his father Ludd getting into his ear. Maybe keep him here if you can."

"That'll be up to Rodrik now," Ethan said, with a noticeable sigh of relief.

"What's the smile for?" Lyra asked.

"I shouldn't be smiling?" Ethan asked, his grin still shining. "My brother's back, the Whitehills aren't out for our blood at the moment, and you just gave us an alliance that could ensure my family's survival."

"All good things, yes." Lyra's voice turned serious. "But you'll need to work at them to keep them from falling apart. You, your brother, your mother, your sister, you all need to work with each other. It shouldn't fall to just one of you to hold everything together."

"I understand," Ethan said.

"Prove it, tell me how you avoid any complications from arising in the future?"

Ethan was caught off guard by the question but the wheels in his mind began to turn. "With Rodrik back, the alliance with the Glenmores can hopefully move forward. Asher marries Gwyn and it creates a strong alliance for our family."

"You already know that," Lyra pointed out. "Now, how do you keep such an alliance from falling apart?"

"I suppose its a matter of making sure each family gains something from it. The Whitehills will want Ironwood to present to the Boltons. The Glenmores will want the same to get in their good graces."

Lyra looked out her window to the dark forest of Ironwood trees. "Okay, Ironwood is your greatest tool. How do you stop from running out as the Whitehills did?"

Ethan curled his fingers."We'd have to take care of what we have. Perhaps restrict access to the Boltons directly."

"What about growing more?" Lyra asked.

"Trees take a long time to grow." Ethan pointed out. "And with winter on the way, I don't think Rodrik will have time to plant acorns."

Lyra bit her upper lip at the lack of current options for the family if their Ironwood ran out. "Okay, so you need to diversify. Find some other way to keep the Glenmores, the Whitehills, and the Boltons happy."

"How?" Ethan asked.

"By going back to the one thing that any person anywhere can use," Lyra smiled. "Money."

"Father always said to be wary of men with too much gold." Ethan said.

"Wise words," Lyra agreed. "And wouldn't you want your family to be one people should be wary of crossing?"

Ethan tilted his head at the thought. He'd never thought much of it before but the Lannisters were the richest family in all of Westeros. It wasn't the guarantee for their power but it was a huge stepping stone. "How?"

"What do people want?" Lyra asked back. " Rule one to making money, find a need and fill it. See what work can be done around your lands and see if you can make something off it. Same for the Whitehill and Glenmore lands. Talos, knows the Whitehills need something nice for their countryside."

"Who is Talos, if I may ask?" Ethan asked.

"Oh, he's one of the Nine Divines from back in Tamriel." Lyra explained. "The Nord conqueror who after uniting Tamriel, ascended to godhood."

"Aegon Targaryen did something similar here in Westeros. Though he didn't become one of the seven."

"And the Targaryen's used to be the ruling family, right?" Lyra asked.

Ethan nodded. "They were overthrown during Robert's Rebellion."

"Any survivors you need to worry about?" Lyra asked.

"Somewhere in Essos I think, but father never seemed worried about them. We'll have enough on our plates going forward."

Lyra smiled. "That you will Ethan," She stretched a hand across the table and Ethan shook it. "I better pack up for the road. Should I ever find myself in the North, would it okay to pay a visit?"

"It would be more than okay!"

The excitement in his voice was all Lyra needed to here. He started back towards the door when another thought entered her head."Hey, just a quick question. Are there any sights in the North I should see?"

"Sights?" Gared asked.

"You know? Wonders a stranger would do well to witness before leaving?"

Gared thought for a moment. "Well, Whiteharbor is regarded as the biggest city in the North. But if you like the cold, you could always go see the Wall."

Lyra's ears perked up at the word. "The Wall?"

Ethan nodded. "It's a wonderous structure. A true triumph of engineering."

Lyra's curiosity manifested in a grin from ear to ear. "Describe it to me."

Early the next morning, Lyra started back out to towards the front gate with a fresh pair of fur clothes on her back and onto the road. A cool wind at her back put her in high spirits until she noticed other footsteps following behind her.

"Wait."

"Gared? I thought you'd be staying here since Rodrik's alive."

"Lord Rodrik's back home now. You're the one who needs a squire," Gared replied.

"I'm not a knight." Lyra pointed out.

"My lady, you're the closest thing to a knight I've ever seen," Gared said. He was dressed in a new set of dark brown clothes and carrying a travel pack of his own and a sheathed sword at his side. "A fairy tale knight perhaps, but a knight all the same."

"Don't you have a father and sister to look out for?" Lyra asked.

"Ironrath's the safest place they can be. You saw to that." Gared said.

"You sure?" Lyra asked. "Odds are you won't see home again for a long while."

Gared turned his head and looked over Ironrath, doing his best to solidify the image in his mind. "I'm sure. I stand the best chance of growing and becoming better by learning from you." Gared replied, facing her with what she could describe as a very Nord-like glare of determination.

Lyra didn't bother to hide a smile. "Very well then."

Gared smiled at his victory. "So, to King's Landing?"

"Maybe, I'm also thinking about going north," Lyra admitted.

"North?" Gared asked.

Lyra nodded. "I haven't had the time to wander around since I've been sorting out this business between the Forresters and the Whitehills. So now with that taken care of, I was thinking about going and sightseeing for a bit. I'd like to have look at this Wall everyone seems to be talking about."

"It'll at least take a few days to get there, if you move at your...speed." Gared said. "And there isn't anything to see. Its a place to send criminals."

"What about those..." Lyra snapped her fingers as she tried to remember the name she'd heard from her stay in the Tuttle home. "The Wild people."

"Wildlings?"

"Yeah, them." They were past the open gate now and moving back into the woods with every step. "Is the Wall manned by them as well?"

Gared shook his head. "No, The Wall is manned by the Night's Watch. The Wildlings are the people who live on the other side of the Wall."

"Why the separation?" Lyra asked. "The Wildlings a threat?"

"Lord Gregor never thought much of them," Gared said. "And the stories say that the Wall was built to keep something else out of Westeros."

Lyra's interest rose at the words. "And what was that?"

"Others."

Lyra frowned at the uninspired word but her curiosity for this Wall was growing in her mind. "And just what were they?"

"White Walkers is another name for them. They were creatures of winter that brought darkness and death wherever they went." Gared wanted to laugh at how childish it all sounded but ever since he had met Lyra, well, anything was possible now. "But they've been gone for thousands of years."

"Is that right?" Lyra didn't like how that sounded so similar to a certain type of creature back home but she didn't ponder it for too long. "Well, creatures of darkness aside, What do you think?"

"My lady?" Gared asked.

"Where should we go?" Lyra continued. "I'll work my way around to seeing everything eventually so is there a particular place you want to go?"

Gared thought for a moment and his mind lingered on the image of the most of the Forrester family gathered around Rodrik's bed. Two were missing from that image. "Lady Mira is in King's Landing so... South?"

"South it is." Lyra nodded. "I'll make a note to head back this way before going home."

"Is that what you usually do?" Gared asked. "Just head out in whatever direction you want?"

"It's the best way to explore a new land," Lyra replied. "I don't recommend it for everyone though. The road can be a dangerous place. How long will it be before we reach King's Landing?"

"A month? Maybe a little more or less?"

Lyra clicked her tongue and pulled a strange bright crystal from her pocket. "I don't feel like carrying you for that long."

The crystal began to glow in her hand and a figure began to materialize into being. At first, a bright light, then shifting and morphing into the shape Gared would describe as a horse. By the time the light faded, there indeed was a horse. One of bright brown skin and black as night mane. On his back sat a blackened leather saddle and some accompanying saddlebags. It gave a loud neigh at the pair and Lyra quickly put her hand on its head.

"I know you don't like the disguise Arvak, but I can't risk drawing attention at the moment," Lyra turned back to the once again startled squire. "Gared, meet Arvak. He'll be the one carrying you around this time."

Sensing that he was starting to adjust to the strangeness of the woman, Gared sighed. "Where did he come from?"

"It'd be too complicated to explain to a boy who doesn't know what months are."

Gared mock chuckled at the slight and stepped towards the horse. He was warm to the touch and for a brief moment, a flash of blue flicked across his auburn eyes. Lyra leaped to the saddle and quickly pulled Gared up behind her.

"Isn't the weight going to be too much for him?" Gared asked.

Sensing the doubt from the squire, Arvak began to sprint down the road at a speed that quickly quelled it. Earning a surprised yelp from Gared and a laugh from Lyra as the trio once more set off onto the road. Once out of the forest and heading southward, Lyra sent a glare back to the north. That little voice of hers told her she was missing out on something but she quickly reminded herself she'd be back to see it before she left for back home. For now, it was time for King's Landing, meeting Mira, the Lannisters, seeing this Dwarf, and hopefully finding a way back to Tamriel.

Getting out of the North was easy enough. The Kingsroad was long but quiet and surprisingly lacking when it came to obstacles. That began to change once they passed through the Neck. The swamps at the tale end of the region were bothersome but with Arvak escorting them, it proved more of a hindrance than an outright obstacle. After Lyra entered the Riverlands, the calm quiet of the North wilted away and the legacy of the War of Five Kings became evident.

They passed the Twins quickly enough, Gared had no wish to linger in the area and Lyra dare not test his urge for vengeance on the Freys by doing the same. The whole land around the castle stunk of death and bodies were still visible from the massacre on Robb Stark's forces. They met other people on the road, injured, homeless, angry, no one paid the pair any mind and quickly got out of the way when Arvak came toward them. Fear and loss bathed the whole landscape to the point of making Lyra remember the fresh battlefields of the civil war back in Skyrim. The sooner they could get out of the Riverlands the better.

One night, the pair made camp at the side of a river well off from the Kingsroad. Gared ate in silence, trying to stave off memories from the Red Wedding and kept his eyes on the crackling fire. Lyra looked out into the river at their side and considered calling it an early night when she caught a glimpse of a figure on the other side of the flowing water. In the middle of the night, with no moon to help light up the area, Lyra couldn't make much of the shadow but she was bothered by the fact that it didn't move. It just stood out at the edge of the river, looking directly at her and her camp.

"You want some food?" Lyra called out. "Some fish here if you want it."

Gared tore his eyes away from the fire and over to Lyra. "What were those unfriendlies you mentioned?" Lyra whispered back to him. "The Brotherhood?"

"Brotherhood without Banners," Gared whispered back, grabbing his sword but still sitting by the fire. "It could be them, or Frey soldiers, or Lannister soldiers since they're allied."

"Stay on guard, until we know for sure," Lyra ordered. The figure still hadn't moved from its spot across the river but Lyra could almost hear something over the rushing water. Something like a growl.

The figure lunged into the river and Gared jolted in surprise as several other growls began to emerge around her and Ethan. By now, Lyra recognized them as wolves and not a moment earlier four of them made their way into the light of the fire. Gared scrambled to his feet and pulled out his sword while Lyra put her eyes back on the river and the emerging shadow that walked out to meet her. It was another wolf, though this one was bigger than the rest. It's growl was deeper and the glare it gave Lyra let her know that she was the one in charge. The growls and snarls of the other wolves grew louder as the alpha closed in on Lyra but she never got up to face off with her. Rather than do that, Lyra let out a yawn and mumbled, "KAAN"

A wave of magic rushed around the fire and Gared watched in astonishment as the snarling wolves quited themselves and sat themselves down around him, the danger faded away even as the Alpha continued to snarl at Lyra.

"You're a riled up one," Lyra said to the wolf. "DREM"

Another wave of magic rushed out and this time the alpha silenced herself. Lyra patted the grass beside her and the alpha moved over to it, setting herself down at Lyra's leg and giving the Nord a better picture. She was twice the size of the surrounding wolves and her eyes dull shade of gold that glowed brighly next to the fire. "There, see? No need for anyone to get eaten." Lyra said, patting the head of wolf. "Gared, give them some fish."

"Is that wise?" Gared asked, grabbing some of the roasted fish they had eaten for supper.

"Do you want them to take a bite out of us?" Lyra asked the squire. "I calmed them down, I didn't make them less hungry."

Gared sighed and quickly threw a piece of fish to each of the wolves who wasted little time in scarfing it down. When he moved over to Lyra he saw just how big the alpha was compared to the others.

"This one's bigger so I'd give her two." Lyra said.

Gared did as he was told and threw two of them down at the wolf's paws. The alpha did the same as the rest of her pack and began biting into it when Lyra noticed the puzzled expression on Gared's face. "Confused about something?" Lyra asked.

"That's a Direwolf." Gared said, stepping back towards the fire. "Those don't usually go beyond the Wall let alone get this far south."

Lyra took the information in stride and looked back towards the wolf with a newfound interest. "Bet you've had a journey huh?" She looked back to the squire. "Can you think of any reason why one would be down here?"

"All I know is King Robb Stark had one during the war." Gared said, thinking back to the grey beast that never strayed too far from the king's side. "Maybe it mated before it was killed."

Lyra bobbed her head at the possibility and gave another look around at the pack. They all looked content enough. "Gared, go ahead and put out the fire."

Gared repeated the same action and looked back at the Nord like she had grown a second head. "Are you joking?"

"We're spending the night with wolves, nothing could be safer." Lyra replied with a smile. "If anyone stumbles across us, the wolves should tempt them to keep on moving."

Gared's eyes darted over the other wolves again and took notice of two staring at him. "If I wake up missing some part of my body, I'm blaming you."

"Then feed them again if you're so worried," Lyra said.

* * *

**A/N: Tada! And so we're on the move. I apologize for the wait. School's been kicking my ass for a few months now and I just haven't had the time to focus on writing. But I did manage to put out this little chapter for you and hopefully I can start updating more frequently. But what did you guys think? Good? Bad? Awful? A waste of time and patience? Leave a review and let me know. **

**Until we meet again, gods guide you.**


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